Always
by doubleknotted
Summary: After everything that has happened, would Katniss and Peeta still find what they have lost? Post-Mockingjay, pre-epilogue.
1. Chapter One

**A/N: Hi, before anything else I want you to know that English is not my first language, so pardon me if the sentences and words are too limited or repetitive and such. This isn't really something I took very seriously, just felt the urge to try and write a thing. This is basically how I imagined Katniss and Peeta's growing-back-together period. So yeah, hope you like it.**

**PS: It gets better, I promise. Just give it a shot?**

* * *

I focus on the sound of crunching dried leaves while walking back home from my hunt.

_Home._

_No._ I'm on my way back to my house.

The knotted muscles in my legs make me feel like I've been running for the past three years of my life, and maybe, I have. I take a seat on the slab of rock on my left, in front of the ruins of the flower shop the Carries once owned. If it were only a few weeks since we got back, I would have broken down right here at the sight of it.

_Because it was my arrow that blew up the force field surrounding the Arena._

And consequently, Twelve. But it has been a few months since we were allowed to return, albeit Thirteen was happy about that. They need manpower, yes, people to work and bring back what they once had, but we were trained for a different field. It may be similar in some ways but it's not enough. Mining may also mean being underground, dangers of explosion are also apparent, but it's just not the same. I can't help but feel like I'm describing myself.

I still am Katniss Everdeen, the volunteer, the girl who was on fire, the co-victor of the 74th Hunger Games, the Mockingjay, the symbol of the rebellion, but I am, at the same time, not her.

That Katniss fought.

She always had a reason to fight, for her family, for her life, for… the boy, the rebellion. This Katniss isn't fighting anymore. I have no reason to fight. Prim's gone, even my mom, too. I don't care what happens to me. The boy's probably gone, too. The war's over.

A soft thud to my right snaps me from my thoughts. It's the stupid tomcat. "I don't have to fight for you, you're fine on your own." I tell him. He hisses at me. Nothing new. I get up and start walking again. Rubble is still everywhere, blocks of cement that used to be walls, fallen trees, lamp posts, even a few pieces of clothing that are too mangled to be worn litter the place. It's comforting. Not that it's a nice place but it's comforting to be surrounded by familiar things. The dirtiness of Twelve gives me a sense of security.

_Like the arms of the boy standing a few yards away from me used to._

He whirls around before I make it inside my house. I don't know if he felt me staring at him, dumbfounded. He must have, that's why I'm frozen to my spot with my leg in midair and my jaw hanging from my mouth. He looks amused, slightly shocked too, then he gives me a small wave after he's regained his composure.

Memories of him flash by: him throwing the bread to me, looking at me, shaking my hand, me glaring at him, fixing his wound, putting my life at stake for his… Kissing him. His arms pulling me close to him after a nightmare, feeling safe afterward. Kissing him on the beach. Our foiled plan. Not seeing him at midnight. Missing him. Hiding under pipes and just thinking and worrying about him.

_His hands around my neck._

My head starts pounding from all of this. There are tears threatening to fall from my eyes. I need to be alone. And so I run. I don't wave back.

I lock myself up in my room, dropping my game bag beside my bed. Pulling my knees in front of me, I let the tears flow. I haven't tried talking to him, not in months. I don't know why exactly, before I was banished we were on slightly good terms. He saved me from killing myself. That's a good thing, right?

I know he was treated at The Capitol. He should be back, but it doesn't feel right seeing him and interacting with him and waving at him again as if nothing pivotal happened between us. I curl up on my side and fall asleep with a single thought in my head: _I don't know._

I wake up screaming hours later. The nightmares never stopped haunting me. In fact, they only got worse. If in the past I only dreamt of my dad, and the fallen tributes of the 74th Hunger Games, now I dream of Prim, too. Snow. Coin. Finnick. Boggs. Castor. Every now and then, Peeta.

Peeta. Peeta trying to kill me. Peeta blaming me for his family's death. Peeta not knowing me, no matter how hard I try to get him to remember. To remember me.

But I could handle that.

The only nightmare with him in it that can make me slip into a period of hysterics and a lot of crying is watching him die and not being able to do something about it. What's worse, I'm his murderer.

My shoulders shake from my sobs. Usually I stop crying after a few minutes but tonight the tears just seem to flow endlessly.

"Katniss..?"

My eyes flicker to the direction of the voice. _His voice._ Years could pass by but nothing could ever make me forget the voice of the only person who can silence my demons. I feel something lift from my heavy chest.

"Peeta," I whisper.

He steps inside and the moonlight coming in from the window lets me see his face. All those longing for him that I buried at the back of my mind come crawling back and suddenly the urge to embrace him fills me. So when he sits on the bed I don't ask him to leave.

"Are you okay?" he breaths out. I can't seem to find my voice so I wrap my arms around him instead. Unexpectedly, he hugs me back. "It's okay," he offers hesitantly. "It's just me."

"I know," I tell him, settling my head on his shoulder. _"You're using him again,"_ a voice from the back of my head tells me. _"Don't. You have to stop taking advantage of his feelings. If he has anything left for you."_

My guilt consumes me. For three years I took him for granted. I used him, his weakness when it comes to me.

"I'm—I'm sorry, Peeta." My voice cracks. I want to say more, to apologize more, to tell him that I'm really, deeply, truly sorry for all the pain I've caused him but I don't know where to start. I've hurt him for so many times. "I'm sorry," I repeat, my voice sounding like a child's.

"It's fine, Katniss."

"You don't even know what I'm apologizing for."

"It doesn't matter," he says. "You're sorry, and that's enough for me." He presses his chin against the side of my head and pulls me closer.

I've forgotten how safe he makes me feel. We've been apart for too long for me to remember.

"Why are you here, Peeta? Why only now?" I ask. I know it's me who's been pushing him away and it's selfish for me to blame those on him but at this moment, when I feel so weak and fragile, when I'm at my worst, I can't bring myself to care.

"Well, you've— we've been avoiding each other ever since we got back. First I was scared you wouldn't let me in. Then I figured I have nothing to lose." He sighs. "If you let me, then we have a shot at being friends again. If you don't, then we'd be back to refusing to acknowledge each other's presence. So… yeah."

"I'm sorry," I blurt out.

"You've already apologized. I've forgiven you. It's okay." I feel him put his chin on my head. "I'm sorry, too." Did I hear him correctly? This boy, who has literally left everything behind just to stay with me, thinks he has purposefully done something against me. I twist and face him.

"Sorry for what?" I ask.

"I str—"_ strangled_ you. He wants to say but thought better of it. "I hurt you."

My heart softens further. "It wasn't you, Peeta. I know that much."

"Can you forgive me?" he asks.

A part of me is still hurting although I truly know it wasn't his fault. Nevertheless, when I was hoping… dreaming, that he would return the affection I was about to give him, he didn't. He hurt me. Deeply. Haymitch made sure I realized that. Once when I came over his house to borrow some liquor we chatted a bit and this came up. I denied that I was hurt. He told me that people that aren't hurt do not cry for hours on end and would not sit idly for almost half the day just because she wanted to. That it wasn't normal. I left him after he said that.

So I'm not entirely sure I could forgive him right now. I've never been good at forgiving.

But this is Peeta.

The boy with the bread.

My dandelion in the spring.

Rebirth instead of destruction.

A second chance.

I want to forgive him because he did me. I put myself in his position again, like Haymitch told me to do in Thirteen so I can see things more clearly.

If I were in Peeta's place, this boy in front of me avoided me when I needed him most, when I had altered memories of him in my head to prevent me from wanting to ever spend some time with him, more importantly, to comfort him.

_He's using me,_ I would think to myself.

_Again._

Now he's apologizing.

I wouldn't.

_But he would_.

And so I would, too. Because if Peeta would do it, it's the right thing.

"Yes." I tell him softly. He smiles at this and pulls me even closer.

"Go back to sleep, Katniss."

_"No."_ I blurt out suddenly, afraid of what might haunt me again if I do. _I can't._ I don't want to go to sleep. I shake my head, "They'll be back." I manage to say.

"I'll be here." His voice was calm, soft, soothing; it brought me a sense of steadiness I haven't felt in a while. And again, even just for a moment, I let myself believe in something again. "I promise."

* * *

From that night sprouted a new routine of some sorts that involved the two of us. I wake up early in the morning, head to the woods to hunt or to just relax. Then I go home, or I drop some game at Sae's for the small canteen she put up for the workers who are rebuilding the district. Peeta comes at noon to bring me a loaf of bread, usually a few minutes after I'm done cleaning myself up. We spend the day together. What we do varies; he sketches, then I watch him, I clean the house and he tends the garden, He bakes and I try whatever he made, oftentimes I eat more than what's for me. I apologize but he just laughs it off. Then we wash the dishes or whatever it is to be washed. He goes back to his house for the night. We let ourselves in each other's houses whenever we can't and don't want to sleep.

One afternoon, we're in one of the spare rooms together, Peeta's painting the woods and I'm watching him, then he drops his brush and palette and stands there unmoving. Panic fills me automatically. He's never had an episode before. Or at least not in my presence. I move in front of him and see his face contorted from struggling. I do what I think would help him.

"Peeta," I whisper. "It's me. Peeta." My hands place themselves on his forearms. They're tense.

"It's not real, Peeta. You're here with me. It's not real."

"It's not real," he says.

"No, it's not real." I feel him relax. He takes a few deep breaths before opening his eyes.

The look on his face is enough to make me forget the boundaries I set for myself when it comes to physical contact. I hug him.

After that night, when he came to me while I was crying, I restricted myself for fear of going too fast. We're just starting over, what we have now is all platonic. I'm afraid that I might mislead him, and he'll hate me. For now, I'm settling for this, our fragile friendship.

I help him into the bedroom, onto the bed and go fetch his pills, the ones Dr. Aurelius sends him monthly to help him recover from his flashbacks. They drain all the energy from his body, or so it seems. He lies still on the bed, his breath ragged and unsteady. He sits up when he sees me walk into the room and takes his medicine when I hand them to him.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" I ask.

"I'm not sick, Katniss. Just a bit tired."

"I know. And that's what tired people do, they sleep."

He finally relents and makes himself comfortable on our bed. Sleep comes to him almost immediately. I stay for a while and watch him. I watch as his chest rises and falls, now a steady rhythm that can lull me back to sleep even on my worst nights.

So much about him has changed. His hair, once almost burnt to the scalp, has grown back and is now covering half of his forehead. He's starting to fill out again, his cheeks only slightly less puffed than they were before the war. His scars are less obvious, too. Now they're just dashes of pinker skin spread across his body. He doesn't look like he's been whipped for a whole week straight anymore. Much has changed, yes, but my favorite is his attitude towards me. He no longer treats me like I'm the mutt who killed his family and so he has to kill me, too. I never thought that was possible. He hated me so much I almost gave up. If not for Prim, and, well, Haymitch deserves some credit too, I would have left him behind. This thought brings a blush to my cheeks from embarrassment, but I was never a completely selfless person. I know that.

Despite all the changes, a couple of things stayed the same. He still sleeps with his mouth slightly parted. His eyelashes are the same shade of blond. His nose scrunches up the same way they used to when something smells off, even when he's not awake.

I brush some of his hair away from his damp forehead and a sigh escapes me. I refuse to tell him this but I'm thankful he's here. I'm thankful his arms are back when I need them, when I need something to anchor me so I don't drift away to the land of the mad. Even his foot that he often places on top of mine when we're eating.

I'm just so glad and grateful, and a bit amazed, he's come back around.

For some reason the fingers that were on his forehead have traveled down to his lips.

His breath is enough to disrupt mine.

I pull my hand away and debate with the larger part of myself whether or not to give him a kiss on his head. I don't, and settle on simply squeezing his hand. I wriggle mine out of his, carefully, so I don't wake him up.

"Katniss," he whispered but it sounded more like a whimper.

"Yes, Peeta?" I answer.

I'm almost sure he has gone to sleep but he speaks again, asking me, in a voice so quiet and hesitant and fragile it broke the walls I built around myself.

"Stay?"

The fact that it's a question, not a command, and I could decline if I wasn't comfortable, made every string of my heart tense. It's so obvious he needs someone to take care of him after what has happened, and the other obvious thing is that I'm the only person in this damned world who is capable, and yet he is asking.

He gave me a choice, and today, I know which one to choose.

**A/N: This isn't the longest chapter, I promise.**

**Everything is greatly appreciated.**


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N: Please review! Actually just do anything. I'm sure I'll appreciate it. :)**

* * *

Something has shifted the other day, in me and in him. We're freer with our touches now. It's as if our minds had a silent agreement of some sort. If before I was so wary, now I don't mind anymore. There are times when he places his hand at the small of my back when we're walking side by side on our way back to our house. It's one of my most awaited parts of the day because he gets to tell me everything. From what the people wore that day to the way his mixer sounded like Haymitch belching. Just everything.

Usually I'm not much of a talker but there's something about him that gets that Katniss out. Before I even know it, I'm making a joke about how his steps would be louder than the sound I would make if I fall from a ten foot high tree.

Our routine developed, I now spend my days surrounded by the quiet of the woods then I drop by his newly reconstructed bakery to pick him up and together we make our way back home.

Peeta's day off is on Wednesdays and I make it my day off, too. I go out and hunt enough for two days the day before so we'd still have enough to eat. Wednesdays are usually spent sleeping in until midday, having brunch then doing things together, like we used to before his bakery opened.

Two weeks ago he taught me how to make cheese buns, which ended in a very messy flour fight. Last week I took him to the woods for a walk. He loved it there, especially because it's fall. The leaves are a similar shade of his favorite color so today I'm taking him there again, this time to let him see his real favorite color, sunset orange. He doesn't know it yet, though. Together we pack lots of food, a change of clothes and a blanket.

"Where are you taking me?" he asks.

"The woods. You said you loved it there, right?" I answer vaguely, taking my time folding a shirt.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely." I take another shirt and fold it again slowly.

"Hurry up, Katniss! We're going to the woods!" he shouts, sounding like a child who's about to go to a fieldtrip somewhere nice and cozy. What we're going to do is not that far, actually. I laugh at him and together we head out.

It's mid-afternoon when we get to the lake. I chose to bring him there so we'd have a place to lounge around until sunset. He spreads the blanket over a small flat patch of grass and we settle underneath the shade of an enormous oak tree. We eat a small meal to satiate our hungry selves from the long hike. Peeta lies on his back afterwards and I do the same.

"Katniss," he says. "What are we? I mean, what am I to you?"

His question came so out of the blue my thoughts became jumbled and I can't find the right words to answer his query right away. Aside from the shock, my uncertainty also made me tongue tied. I'm not sure what he'd make of my half-deciphered feelings. I flip his question over and over for a few times before settling for a safe answer.

"You're my… friend."

"I'm your friend," he repeats.

"You're my best friend, Peeta."

He chuckles at that. "I'm your only friend."

"Excuse me? You are not my only friend."

"Oh really? Name your other friends then."

"Sae," I say, a bit of panic in my voice. I don't think I would be successful in convincing him. He just may be my only friend but I'm not letting him win this.

"Come on, she's like our mother."

"…Thom?"

"Acquaintance."

"Delly?"

"Okay, who else?" It's working. I mentally give myself a slap on the shoulder.

"Johanna."

"Hm."

"Pollux and Cressida."

"You sure about that? We've known them for what, two weeks?"

"What about that? We've only known each other formally for a couple of months but we got engaged."

Shit. I did not mean to say that aloud. I'm starting to panic and am about to excuse myself when he speaks again.

"Really? Never mind, but okay, that's four. Who else?"

I'm running out of names. "Um, Haymitch?"

"He doesn't count."

"What? Why doesn't he count?"

"He's, like, our foster father?"

"Fine."

"So… I'm your best friend, huh?" he says after a short period of borderline uncomfortable silence.

"Yeah."

"But we used to be something more…, real or not real?"

I shift, finding myself in such an uncomfortable position.

"Real," I whisper. "At least before they took you away from me." I add softly, half hoping he doesn't hear.

During our stay in Thirteen, I didn't know it yet. But as time flew by, when I no longer worried about my life or anybody's life for that matter, I had time to reflect. I knew I felt something. It's more than just caring.

I finally find a comfortable position and feel sleep coming to claim me. I close my eyes and just listen to our breathing and the sounds from the woods surrounding us. Maybe he thought that I fell asleep because he whispers, "I'd like to give it another try."

When I open my eyes again, everything around me is tinted orange. I look up and find Peeta's favorite color spread above us. He's asleep on his side beside me, our joined hands take me by surprise because it doesn't seem like he's the only one who wanted that to happen. My hand is folded around his, too. Like I don't want him to go. This confuses me further, but I allow it. Gently, I shake his shoulders to wake him up. "Peeta?"

"What? What is it? What's wrong?" he asks frantically. A part of him is still living in that world of fear, where every sound could mean our death, every breath could be our last, and every glance could be the last thing we see. It's both saddening and uplifting. As selfish as this would sound, I'm happy I'm not the only one.

"It's okay. Everything's okay, Peeta." I assure him. "I… I wanted to show you this," I look up, his eyes following mine.

Almost right away, his jaw drops as what he's seeing dawns on him. He looks as if it's his first time seeing a sunset, and maybe in a way, it is. I've forgotten that his memories have been altered, and as treatment, most of those were erased, taken away from him. When he came back here, to Twelve, he can only remember half of his life. He told me once over dinner that he felt robbed and violated but he agreed to that treatment because he wanted to get back to me. I remember feeling uneasy when he said that comment.

"It was beautiful, thank you." I'm snapped away from my thoughts.

I blink. "It was nothing," I tell him, a smile coming on to my lips.

"Don't you think we should head back?" he asks me. "It's getting pretty dark."

"Well, actually, we're staying here for the night." I tell him about my plan.

"Last week, when you told me you liked it here, I got this idea of a picnic here at the lake, then as an afterthought, of showing you this." I point up to the fading sunset.

"I planned it all in my head but when I got to the part where we head back home, things got complicated. If we were to wait for the sunset, it would be dark soon and it wouldn't be safe to travel. I found no other way around this problem but to just spend the night here. And so every day, after hunting, I prepared the cabin my father and I once built. The first day, when I entered the cabin, I broke down and cried for hours!" I laugh at this part and he joins me. When our laughter subsides, I continue my story.

"I started having second thoughts about this but before I can run and be a coward again, I locked the door and got it over with. It's absurd, locking the door, because I could still unlock it but for some reason it strengthened me. The second day, I filled the place with firewood then I… talked to my dad." I pause, suddenly taking interest of the stubbed fingernails on my right hand.

Deep breaths.

"I told him about you… To be honest, I was confused about my feelings when it comes to you. And talking to him, it cleared some things. I'm not done working everything out but I know enough."

I steal a glance away from my hand and look at him. A smile. He looks at me suddenly and I startle, a distant memory working its way onto my mind.

"And what are those things?" he asks playfully.

"I'm not going to tell you." Not because I'm being playful. I'm not sure I'm ready.

"Okay, when you're ready then." My jaw drops. _His response mirrors my thoughts._

"You alright, Katniss?" he squeezes our still joined hands. Still. I gulp. I am so out of my mind today.

"Yeah," I breathe out. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

"What happened?"

It won't hurt telling him about it, right? "I was thinking… something about not being ready to tell you what I know. Then you said something about telling you when I'm ready." I shrug. "It was just weird. It's like you read my mind."

"Oh, well, I would have reacted the same way." He jokes.

I can hardly see him now. It's almost pitch black here. "Shit, I should have taken us to the cabin first before telling you my story."

He looks left, right, up, then back to me. "I'm not scared," he says, then gives my hand, which is still clasped around his, a little tug.

"I've got Katniss Everdeen with me."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts? Shall I continue or not?**


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N: So... hi again. Longer chapter this time. I'm still making some adjustments to the next ones so for the meantime here's chapter three. Hope you like it! **

**Oh, and P.S: feel free to ask and suggest things to me.**

* * *

For a considerable amount of minutes, we just walked around and around the woods until we found my father's cabin. It was a bit hard to find since we forgot to bring a torch with us, the only thing lighting the way was the moon, which wasn't pretty bad.

Peeta opens the door carefully, like someone might be sleeping inside, then I lead him to settle in front of the hearth. He lights it up instead of me since he's more familiar with fire. Keeping ourselves warm under the blanket, pressed side by side each other, we find comfort and peace.

"When I was a kid," Peeta says. "My father used to bake these cookies frosted with different flowers and leaves and I remember asking him if I could have one because they looked really appetizing. The colors on the frosting were very vibrant. I wanted to taste them so bad. He told me no, though, because those were for the customers. Of course I felt bad, but I understood." He smiles.

"If there was one thing in the world that I understood at that age—I was probably 10 or 11, hell, I didn't even understand why my mom hits us, or probably me, when I make a very small mistake like I forgot to do this or that or I was a few minutes late, she'd hit me, hard. I never understood that—but this, I did understand. Put other people first before you. If I can't help myself, maybe I can help the people around me. Maybe that's why everybody deems me 'too kind' and things."

I'm speechless. _What do you reply to that?_ I ponder, then I joke, "Well, you are too kind sometimes." _Like taking a beating for a girl you hardly know?_

"Bad habits die hard, you know."

"Yeah," I breathe, guiltily. "I haven't grown out of my own."

"Oh?"

"I'm grumpy, irritable, arrogant, unforgiving, and lethal. Basically, rude."

"You _are not._"

"Yes, I am."

"Oh, trust me on this," he says. "I wouldn't be here if you were, anyway.

Peeta's comment had a bad ring to it, like he would leave me if I ever turn sour but I don't dwell on it. I'm sure he didn't mean it that way. And besides, I've been as good as dead on some days but he never left. He even took care of me.

"I'm sleepy," he whispers.

I pull the blanket up to our chins and scoot closer to him. The air is turning colder and colder every day. "Then sleep, Peeta."

"Okay," he murmurs. "Goodnight, Katniss."

"Goodnight, Peeta."

* * *

In the days following that overnight stay, Peeta and I had gotten even closer. Maybe I don't even have to tell him what I've worked out in my head anymore. Judging by his actions, it's like he knows it anyway. Every day, he brings me a treat from his bakery, most of the time it's "something new" and a cheese bun. It's a miracle I still fit into my clothes. He holds my hand all throughout our walks. I take this opportunity and start doing things for him, too. When I wake up earlier than him, I make him a cup of hot chocolate and leave it on the bedside table.

I… I think I should do more things for him, if I want him to feel… special.

I'm sitting cross-legged on our bed, him lying face down beside me, his one hand on my knee, when he jolts out of his sleep, looks at me, the look of realization on his face, then whispers, "_Cake._"

I have never laughed so hard in my life.

He shoots me a look of confusion, so I explain, "I'm sorry but you literally woke up so suddenly, like an alarm went off in your head then you whispered 'cake'." He seems to be imagining the scenario because after several seconds he grins, mussed up hair and all.

"I would have laughed at you, too, if you woke up like I did then said 'Squirrels," he teases.

"Oh, shut up," I reach out and place my hand flat on his face. He closes his eyes and scrunches up his nose. _Cute._

_Oh my God. I just thought he's cute._

I'm still not used to these feelings.

"Oh, by the way, I got an order for a wedding cake yesterday, hence the 'cake' whisper and I'm going to be working on the frosting later, want to help?"

I say yes, partly because of me wanting to do more things for him and also partly because I like watching him work.

After twelve hours and four kilograms of frosting, we're finally on our bed, he's reading a book. I'm just lying around and waiting for sleep to come.

"Hey, Katniss, you awake?" he asks.

"Hm?"

"I have something to tell you." I sit up and face him. "Don't be mad at me." He gulps, clenches his jaw.

I think I know where this is going. I'm not sure what I feel about this. He must have seen the fear etched on my face because he tells me that he could tell me this another time. He says goodnight, turns the lamp off, and lies with his back at me. I didn't want to stop him; I was afraid we'd have this conversation again soon but I never wanted to stop him from telling me how he feels, because I was half-expecting that I'd know the answers to the questions I have left on my mind. Maybe once I'm certain, once he had confirmed everything, it would confirm everything in me, too.

All I have are questions. He has answers.

"Peeta?" I inch closer. It's either he's genuinely asleep or he's a great actor. I prefer the former than the latter. "Peeta?" I try again. He doesn't budge. He rarely gets upset so I'm not sure how to deal with his side of him.

_What does he do when I'm upset?_

I can feel a headache coming from trying to remember. He's better at this. I'm the one who sulks, he's the one who comforts.

Yes, _comfort._

I wrap my arm around his torso and press myself to his back. He does this when I'm upset. _Now what does he tell me?_

_Screw this._ I'm not Peeta. I'm entitled to my own thoughts. But I still don't know what to say. Maybe I could tell him what I think? Or what I feel? I tick off every feeling I felt.

_1\. I was scared._ But I won't ever be not scared when it comes to these things. Emotions and I don't really get along well.

_2\. I don't think I'm ready._

_3\. I'm afraid I'd disappoint him._ But I'm always afraid to disappoint him.

_4\. When he turned his back on me I felt bad. I never wanted to upset him._

_5\. I—_

Yes. "I never wanted to upset you." I say. "I'm sorry. Goodnight, Peeta."

I don't want to keep him from telling me how he feels. I need them to clear my mind. At the last minute I press a kiss on the base of his neck.

When I wake up, I'm snuggled against his chest. His arm is draped over me, his breath tickling my forehead. I pull back a few inches and see that he's already awake. "Hi," I say.

"Hey," he gives me one of those contagious shy smiles. "I'm sorry about last night."

"That's okay, I do that all the time," I laugh guiltily. "I never thought it was that hard to deal with an upset person."

"You know, we have a very bad habit of apologizing to one another."

"Yeah. I guess I'm sorry?"

This brings out a laugh from him, a deep reverberating sound that I believe could stop civil wars. "Well, I'm sorry, too."

The phone rings somewhere downstairs and bursts our little bubble of peace. "I'll get it," he says.

Peeta attaches his prosthetic, stands, then leaves. I'm left on my own, sitting on our bed entangled in the sheets. He comes up a bit later, his mouth slightly opened. It does that whenever he senses or knows something awful is coming.

"I have some news," he starts.

I feign innocence and raise my eyebrows. "What is it?"

He opens his mouth and it stays there for a second. "I need to go to the Capitol."

_No._

_He can't go back to the Capitol. They might try and take him away from me again. We've come so far! He's almost there, he can't-_

"It's just for checkup, don't worry! They just need do some tests to see if my brain's holding up nicely and if they need to adjust my meds." Once again, I'm surprised by how Peeta can predict my thoughts. Times like this mess with my brain, tricks me into thinking that nothing has changed, that Peeta never got hijacked, that I never lost him. But usually after a certain amount of time, the world always makes it a point that I don't forget what Snow did to Peeta.

I'm still anxious. I can't go with him, I'm banished to stay here in Twelve until they tell me otherwise. "When are you leaving?"

He sighs, takes my hand and says, "Tomorrow."

* * *

I help him pack his things after we've eaten our brunch. Today's Wednesday, our joint day off. Instead of going out or doing something enjoyable, we're obliged to spend our afternoon reluctantly packing his things into two of Peeta's leather briefcases.

Once we're done, he asks me to help him bake some loaves for our dinner. We do this silently, the weight of being separated, of spending nights alone, of spending hours worrying about the other's safety, pinning our moods down. We eat silently, and go to bed without another word, too.

Peeta's train is set to leave at 8 in the morning, so we get up at around past 6 for preparations. I make sure he has everything he needs, that he can bring, with him, in those bags we packed together.

Hand in hand, we trudge up the path to the train station. People from town greet us happily, _too happily_ for they don't know what's going on at this moment, but we manage to give them some smiles.

"Train from District 12 bound for the Capitol is now boarding. Please prepare your train tickets to avoid delays. Thank you." The announcer booms. Passengers fall in line by the side of the train. I join Peeta.

"I guess this is goodbye," he says to me while the line moves.

"For now," I add.

He smiles, "Yes, for now." He opens his mouth to say something but the man in charge of the tickets interrupts him. "Your ticket, sir."

He hands it to him, turns to me, and touches my cheek lightly, his eyes sad, before disappearing into the train. I see him again though, peering out a window, probably searching for me. I walk over to his window and he sees me too. I place my palm flat on my side of the glass and he places his on top of mine on the other side of the glass. I smile at the sight of our hands against each other, the obvious differences, how his skin is lighter, and his hand bigger, but just as scarred. The train horn sounds, and after one, two, three heartbeats, I'm left to the sound of my own.

I walk back to our house and do nothing all day. My thoughts are all… Peeta. Where he is, what he's eating, what he's doing, is he safe, is he thinking of me, too. When I've shaken myself out of my thoughts, the sun is already sinking. Probably 5 in the afternoon, judging by the shadows. I decide to skip dinner since I don't have the appetite and go straight to bed. I'm scared for what my nightmares would bring tonight. I debate on sleeping or not sleeping, but convince myself that waiting up all night would be longer than drifting off to sleep.

At midnight, I'm up again. My throat hoarse from all the screaming an hour ago. I can't exactly call Peeta because he's probably still on the train and is probably asleep. I wish he isn't. A part of me wishes he's awake, too.

The tea I made for myself has cooled down and I drain it on the sink. So much for trying to find alternatives. I clean the house, hoping I could get my mind off of him even just for some hours. After I've swept every inch of floor space this house has, I plunk down the couch in our living room. The clock reads 6 in the morning.

_A day off of your countdown,_ I think to myself.

_God, is this even healthy?_

I'm stuck pondering on that question for almost an hour. I'm afraid this answers the questions buried at the back of my mind. But how can I be sure?

I can't talk about love with Haymitch. He'd probably just offer me liquor to drink. Effie would read too much into it. I have no other friends here in Twelve.

_Prim's gone._

I've only known three persons in my life who I'm sure have sincerely felt love, two of them gone forever, the other miles away from me, taking care of everybody else except her daughter.

Maybe it's not too late to rebuild our relationship. As much as I hated her in the past, I miss her too much in the present. This is one of the things I'm certain I could only ask for advice from her.

I dial the number she sent to me months back, in her first and last letter to me since she moved to District Four. After a couple of rings, someone picks up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, mom."

"Katniss," she breathes out. "Oh, dear. I'm so sorry. I- I- didn't want to leave you. It's just- it's too painful for me there in Twelve." Her voice is livelier in a way that it carries more emotion now. Maybe her moving to settle in another district has helped her.

"It's okay, I understand." I tell her, because I do. Remember what I told you about crying for hours when I first entered the cabin near the lake?

"You do?" she asks, her tone a mix of disbelief and astonishment.

"Yeah."

"Thank you," she says shyly. "Why did you call anyway, dear? Do you want me to get Annie?"

"Actually, mom, I wanted to ask you some things."

"You need my help?"

"Yes," I admit. I can almost imagine her smile at my admission.

"What is it you want to ask?"

A beat passes. "… How do you know you love someone?" _I hope she doesn't pry._

"Oh," she inhales. I imagine her pursing her lips, like she used to do when she's thinking. "First, you have to understand that there are different kinds of love.

"There's the love that bonds a parent to his child. That love could outlast anything. Because no matter what happens, a mother and a father would always love his or her child.

"Then there's the love a sibling has for another sibling. Most people say that's subjective, whether it lasts or not. But I think it isn't. No matter what happens, you'll always be bonded to your sibling, and that forces you to love him or her for whoever he or she is.

"There's for friends, even for pets and others but I think I know what you're talking about. The one that involves a woman and a man?"

"Yeah," I admit sheepishly. "Mom… how and when did you know you loved dad?"

"For us, it was like we just knew, you know?" Her voice cracks a little at the end. "When I was younger, I always sought for my parents' approval. I never wanted to disappoint them, I was the perfect daughter, much like you and Prim. And I never did disappoint them, not until I fell in love with your father. You could guess they didn't approve of that. But whenever your father and I would meet up, I forget about my parents. It's all about him and me. He makes me happy." I hear her sniff. "He made me happy, Katniss. He— he made me experience a joy I never saw in my parents. I guess that's when I knew I really loved him."

I've forgotten that my mom left everything behind for my father— for us. "Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Did you love the baker?"

My mom's answer came quicker than I expected. "Yes, I did. But as I've told you before, there are different kinds of love. I loved him in a different way."

"Mom?" I say again.

"What is it?"

"I'm— I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have been that angry at you after…"

"Oh, don't be sorry, Katniss. You had every reason to be angry. I wasn't the mother I was supposed to be, especially when you needed me. It was my fault."

"Well… I guess let's just say I'm not mad at you anymore."

She sighs, "Thank you, dear. For forgiving me."

We're silent for a while, then she speaks, "Is this about you and Peeta?"

My eyes widen and I get the urge to deny it, but it's obvious, isn't it? Who else is there that I could have started to fall for? "Yeah."

I know she's smiling. "Fill me up then. Maybe I could help you decipher what you're feeling… if you want to, of course."

I think about it, then proceed to do so because this is my mom, after all. If we both want to try and fix our relationship then maybe we could start here. I tell her about him, where he is right now, and what I've been doing for the past day, which is mostly worrying about him. I tell her about how close we've gotten, where it started, how it progressed. For once in my life I decide to let her know everything about something. When I've finished, she's silent. Probably piecing up ideas and weaving conclusions.

"Katniss, you're an adult now. I'm not going to put ideas in your head, it might confuse you. But here's what I can tell you. Or actually, what I want to ask you: if Peeta never comes back, what would you do?"

My mind automatically fills up with images from my nightmares, _Peeta dies a thousand times and a thousand ways in my head. Suddenly I want to cry, I feel my throat and lungs tightening, my heart trying to pound its way out, my head spinning—_

"Katniss? Are you okay? Are you there?"

Mom. On the phone. Calm down, Katniss. Peeta's fine. "Sorry about that. I guess I got overwhelmed." I take deep breaths.

"Dear?"

"I…" I trail off. I would kill myself. Or be as good as dead. I'd probably spend the rest of my life trying to think my way out of this world. Days spent staring at the wall, wishing for him to come back. Nights spent screaming his name, for him to run for his life. "I would die, too."

"I knew you'd say that," she says calmly. "To be completely honest, dear, I don't think you're confused. You're just afraid." I imagine her pursing her lips again. "But that's okay. It's always okay to be afraid."

* * *

**A/N: Just in case it wasn't clear, I do not own ****_The Hunger Games _****and ****_any of its characters. _****They're Suzanne Collins', though I hope someday I could create a story that could affect and inspire people the way her story did.**

**Reviews, follows and favorites are highly appreciated! Thanks to the first couple of readers who did!**


	4. Chapter Four

**A/N: I don't want any of you to hate me so here's another chapter. And to the reviewer who told me something about a conversation on the phone, you're in luck. It was exactly what I wrote after her phone call with her mom.**

* * *

Fall is slowly turning into winter, the breeze much colder now. And me, being stubborn as ever, did not wear anything to protect myself from the cold. The stone I'm leaning on has warmed, most likely because of my back, but it isn't enough for me to stop shivering. Finally I decide to head back, my stomach's rumbling. I shoot two squirrels on my way and cook them once I got home.

After the phone call with my mom, I felt better. Much sure of my feelings now. And because I've worked it all out, I miss him even more terribly. So to stop myself from crying my eyes out, I went to the woods. That didn't work either, because on my way I accidentally stepped on three branches—yes I counted them—and the sound reminded me of Peeta's gait. _Of Peeta._ The weather's too cold to stay outside, too. Now I'm back in our house, sitting idly on the couch again, just as I did before the sun shone.

I've never really looked at our house. Yes, I see it every day but I've never really took notice of how the walls are almost the same color as the glaze Peeta's cheese buns have, a shade of cream, or how the couch is a dark shade of green, the bookshelves are mahogany. This brings a memory to my mind's surface, Effie chastising me after I've driven a butter knife into a table while we're on our way to the Capitol for our first Games. It makes me smile. I skim my eyes over the few books encased on the shelf beside the television. My eyes focus on a familiar spine of a book, _too familiar._ I take it and look at the things written and drawn in it. A mix of Everdeen's and Peeta's.

This plant book was created so as not to forget how to survive, which herbs are medicinal, which berries to avoid, which can be eaten or not. It has helped us a lot, more than I ever thought it would. Because when I was little, the thought of my father leaving us and having to fill his shoes at twelve never really crossed my mind. The anger I had for my mom comes back to me, but I don't let it return fully. She's said sorry. I've forgiven her. I hope she has forgiven herself, too.

An idea starts to form in my head, a book just like this to help us remember those who have fallen, those who are worthy of recognition. Peeta can draw them if we can't find a picture to place, I can write their stories.

I promise myself I'd tell Peeta this once he gets home. A glance at the clock informs me it's 7 in the evening. I need to eat if I still want to be alive when he comes home. I manage to find a can of stew inside one of the kitchen cabinets and a loaf of bread on one of the counters. I got so caught up in my bubble of worry and misery that I didn't notice this. Turns out Peeta left me a note and a loaf before he went. The note reads, _Eat, okay? Don't starve yourself. I'll be home before you even know it._

_Peeta, you have no idea how wrong you are. Every second, minute, hour that goes by when you're not with me is deeply and painfully felt. I wish you were here. You—_

The phone is ringing.

For a moment, I'm nervous, then the idea of Peeta calling me comes on my mind and excitement fills me. I pick the phone up and bring it to my ear, "Hello?"

"Hey, Katniss."

_It's him. God, it's him._ "Peeta!"

He laughs and I swear, I think it's become my favorite sound. "Hello there, everything okay?"

"Yeah, so far, I'm alright. You?"

"Things are okay, too. Tests are done, results out," he says.

"And?"

"They say I'm improving, getting better, quicker than they first guessed."

"That's great news, Peeta."

"Yeah, I think they have to thank a certain Ms. Everdeen for that."

I giggle. "So how was your day?" I ask.

"Nothing much, I guess… Oh, wait! For dessert at dinner we had this pastry of some sort, it's like a cross between a macaroon and a cookie. It's good, you should try it sometime."

"If I could, then I would, Peeta. I'd love to."

"And so you shall."

"How?" I ask. "I can't leave the district yet, remember?"

"Well, the chef here told me that they don't usually hand out recipes to people who ask for them, but I talked him into it."

"Oh my God! Seriously?"

"Yeah, apparently, my ability with words can be pretty useful."

"You can be pretty charming when you wanted to, you know?"

He chuckles. "What about you? How was your day?"

I smile at this. His concern is gladdening. "I called my mom today."

"Really? How did it go?"

"Better than expected. We're best friends now." I joke.

"You're replacing me?" I can imagine him pouting his lips. I laugh at the image in my head.

"Yes, you're going to have to find another title. Soon, I suggest."

"Oh, I will. I am not walking out of your life, Everdeen!"

We laugh, together. It feels great.

"Oh, before I forget, my train's been changed. I can leave here tomorrow."

"Really?!"

"Yeah, now, don't sound too disappointed." He chuckles. "But yeah, the train should arrive there at around…" I hear papers shuffling, probably the printouts of his ticket. "… 6pm? Yes, 6pm."

"I'll be waiting for you." I smile when I say this. "Oh, and I have a surprise for you when you get home."

"You're making me so excited!" he yells. The image of him yelling and smiling alone in his room while talking to me makes me laugh. "Can I get a clue?" he asks.

"No, you'll have to wait."

"God, you do know how to tease people, don't you?"

"Maybe I do," I tell him. A door opens somewhere in his room. I hear his voice, talking to someone. He's covered the mouthpiece so I can't hear much.

"Hey, Katniss. I need to go now. An attendant here just told me it's almost lights off."

"Oh," I feel annoyance building up in me but I disregard it. "That's okay. You're probably tired, anyway."

"Good night, Katniss," he says.

"Good night, Peeta."

"See you tomorrow," he whispers.

"See you tomorrow." The line goes silent. Why do they have to cut our conversation short? Something clicks. I think he's put the phone down. So I silently add, "I miss you."

A voice answers, _his voice,_ "I miss you, too."

Then the line's cut. It's lights off.

* * *

Surprisingly, or maybe not really, I wake up the next day happy. No screaming and thrashing last night. It amazes me how Peeta can drive away nightmares even when he's miles and miles away. I eat breakfast for the first time in three days, I think. For almost the whole day I repeat the lines in my head, or actually I construct the lines in my head I'd be telling Peeta when he gets here.

"Peeta, when you were gone, I had some time to think, I don't know if you feel the same way about me…"

_It doesn't sound right, it's like I'm so clueless, so numb, that I'm not sure if he feels the same way about me_.

I decide to just leave it. Words aren't my forte, that's Peeta's. I'm more known for my actions, oftentimes so compulsive that before I even know it I've started something I never wanted to happen.

I go out the meadow and pick some mint leaves for some tea tonight, Peeta likes mint tea more than those that come in packs from the Capitol. I shoot three squirrels, too, and cook it the way Peeta likes it.

Originally, I planned on wearing a dress for tonight but I guess the odds aren't in my choice of clothes' favor. So instead I wear a dark long-sleeved shirt, a sweater on top of that, a normal pair of pants, and my hunting boots. I braid the top half of my hair into a ponytail of some sort, then I leave the lower half down. It should help keep my neck warm.

Half an hour before 6, I head for the train station. I don't remember packing a coat or a sweater for Peeta, so I bring one for him. Sae spots me and gives me a wave. I wave back.

When I get to the station, I still have five minutes to spare. I spend it counting the people present in the station. Then, Steve, the stray dog almost everybody in here knows, comes up to me and I give his head a pat. I check the time table and I see that Peeta's train is set to arrive a bit later than expected due to some small problems in the schedule. Effie wouldn't be proud.

I spend probably five more minutes looking around just to kill time. Then a voice says, _"Train from the Capitol bound for District Twelve is now arriving. Please stay away from the tracks. I repeat, stay away from the tracks. Thank you."_ I jump up at this announcement and walk towards the arrival section. The train halts to a stop and then the doors open. I stand up on my tiptoes and try to spot him.

_Why is almost everybody blonde?_

I almost give up but then a particularly tall blond boy, holding two leather briefcases, one on each hand, and is shivering, catches my eye.

"Peeta!" I yell.

The boy I'm looking at turns his head and I see that it is him. His face lights up and I make a run for him. He opens his arms to catch me, and I'm laughing. I'm laughing because he is here. His arms envelope me, and it feels so good there are tears threatening to fall from my eyes. I hug him tighter and he does, too.

"I missed you," I say, my head buried in his neck.

"I missed you, too," he says.

He lets go of me and shivers. I laugh and throw him his coat.

"Thanks," he smiles and puts it on. He pulls me in for another hug, a hug tighter than the previous one and for a second I worry I might get crushed. Before that happens though, he releases me again, his hands drifting down to my waist. My eyes meet his, and I feel something… moving, almost dancing in my chest. For every second it gets stronger, until I'm overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him. A part of me reasons I shouldn't, then I remember that I'm supposed to tell him how I feel about him. Kissing him should send the same message, right?

So I do. The moment my lips meet his, he freezes, and I'm nervous he doesn't want this, that he doesn't feel the same way about me. But then he relaxes and kisses me back.

We pull away for air, not looking at each other, or at least I'm not. I risk it though, only to see him looking at me like I'm the most wonderful piece of bread he's ever seen. _Seriously, Katniss. Piece of bread?_

He blinks rapidly, shaking himself out of… shock?

"What was that for?" he finally asks.

"Um, surprise?" He laughs, really laughs, like he can't believe what just happened, then stares at me in disbelief.

"Can we do it again? I wasn't prepared." Now it's me who laughs.

"Well, you shouldn't be! It was a surprise after all."

He smiles, then asks, "What brought this… change?"

"I told you, I called my mom."

A chuckle, "I think you should call her more often."

A small white snowflake gets caught in Peeta's eyelashes. A snowflake. I look around and can't believe what I see. It's snowing. When I look back at Peeta, I see that he's seen it, too. Hundreds of snowflakes land all around us, and in minutes they've given everything in sight a light dusting of white.

I punch him playfully, "Come on, let's go home before we freeze."

We walk hand in hand, I've offered to carry his lighter suitcase because I know Peeta won't budge if I've offered to carry a suitcase, then he would start going on about chivalry and gentlemanliness and how he was brought up by his father. As we're walking, I look at Twelve. Now everything's covered in snow, and it reminds me of the gingerbread town with a light dusting of sugar I saw in one of Peeta's cookbooks that came from the Capitol. I tell him this and he asks me if I want to make one for Christmas. It's an event we haven't celebrated in years, because it just seems too festive, considering the circumstances, of course. Giving gifts, cooking tons of food, celebrating. Our way of living wasn't exactly one for celebrating. I still tell him yes, because he seemed so excited about it.

The Victors' Village comes into view and I hear him sigh beside me. "Home sweet home," says Peeta.

_Home._ It has only been… what? 2 months since we first acknowledged each other? 3? 4? I don't know but if it ranges from that, we've transformed our house into a home fast. Sometimes I'm amazed at how quick things developed between the two of us, even years before, dating back to the bread. Peeta and I haven't spoken at all when he threw that to me when we were starving, yet he claimed that he did that because he loved me then. I was ready to put my life at stake for his even if we've only known each other formally for less than a month. Hell, we even got engaged. Then after a year, I was ready to sacrifice myself for him. I couldn't function without him when we were in Thirteen. I spent nights crying myself to sleep when he wasn't there to comfort me. I was deeply hurt when he hated me. In fact, I was so hurt I started to hate him, too. I didn't… I couldn't let him go when we were out on the battlefront on the streets of the Capitol. I knew he wanted to, but I wasn't strong enough to do that. And all that from more than a year of letting himself into my life? It's plain outrageous. Gale… he can't even compete with Peeta now, even after years of relying on each other. Maybe that's why I couldn't let myself love Peeta. Because everything happened so, so suddenly, and so, so intensely. Maybe because I was scared, letting people become a part of my life isn't something I do frequently. Most of the time it's me who has the final say, who gets to choose the people to let in. But no, not Peeta. He did all that himself. I wonder how he did it so easily. But there's also a chance that it's because I allowed him. I gave him a chance to be a part of my life, my routine. Maybe back then I unconsciously wanted to? It doesn't matter, what matters is that now I want him to.

I need him to.


	5. Chapter Five

When we arrive home, Peeta and I plunk down the couch, resting our tired legs, enjoying the feeling of knowing that we're back in each other's presence. I ask him if he's hungry, he tells me yes, for the last meal he ate was breakfast. It's a great thing I prepared dinner myself and not relied on him. I order him to wait for me at the dining table while I set the table.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Yeah," I breathe out. "You like them this way, right?"

"I never thought you noticed."

"Well, I did. So, here. It's not as good as Sae's but—"

"I'm sure it'd be fine, Katniss. Smells good anyway."

I shrug, "Guess you have to find out yourself."

After dinner we decide to call it a night, we're both exhausted from all the activities we did today. Him, from traveling, me from preparing. We lie awake on the bed for several minutes, my head on his forearm, both of us lying on our backs, eyes trained on the ceiling. Peeta's playing with my hair, threading strands of it in between his fingers before letting them slowly slip. I hear him yawn, feel him shift and turn so he's facing me. He stares for a moment, then, hesitantly, places a kiss on my cheek. _So chaste._ "Goodnight, Katniss."

I turn and face him, too, then kiss him full on the mouth. I snuggle beneath his chin so he can't see the blush I currently have on my cheeks. I can tell he's surprised. So I surprise him more. "You can kiss me whenever and wherever you feel like it, you know."

I feel like it lacks the shocking quality so I add, "You don't have to be shy."

Still no obvious response, so I include, "Just not in front of many people, we don't want to draw too much attention to ourselves. Might start rumors that can reach the Capitol. I don't want cameras."

_Still nothing._

I pull my head back in confusion. _Why isn't he saying something?_ Then, when I see the look on his face, I know exactly why.

I have shocked Peeta into speechlessness.

I audibly and exaggeratedly sigh. "Peeta, I was teasing you. Okay?"

He blinks at me, a look of disbelief on his face. Then he relaxes. "I thought you were serious. God, I really did!"

"Well, actually, I was." I admit. "I only said I wasn't because I got scared you were mad or disappointed or something."

His expression hasn't changed. "You were?"

"Yeah, I told you last night, remember?" I say. "I called my mom to ask for help."

"And I'm guessing you asked for help… to figure out things?"

"Not exactly figure out, more like I asked her to support me, but you get the idea."

"Wow."

"Was it too unexpected?" I ask warily. I'm anxious about everything concerning this.

He ponders, then says, "You know what, I should have seen it coming. But I guess I didn't want to expect too much." He lets out a chuckle. "All of that aside though, I'm happy. I never thought we'd get past the _friends_ stage."

This time, it's me who's surprised. "Why did you think that?"

He bites his lip like he always does when he's anxious. "I'm not sure. I mean, a lot has happened to me— to us— and I don't know. I guess I thought it was too much to handle for the both of us. We were pressured for so long to act as lovers that the thought of it turning out to be _real_ never crossed my mind. Then after that, with us wanting to save each other, for me they say that it was out of love. For you…"

"For me what?"

"I… I thought it was only just to get back at me. Because Haymitch saved and helped you in our first Games." _That was it though._ I want to tell him this but I, too, want to use this to my advantage. If he doesn't know, I could tell him it was out of love, too, like his. But also, if I want us to…

_Oh my God, I want us to have a relationship. A real one._

I shouldn't be reacting this way, I know, but it's still unsettling. For years I convinced myself I won't ever… God, I didn't even think I was capable of loving someone romantically. But things change, don't they?

Yes, even drastic changes can occur. Who would've thought I would ever come at a point where I'm having an internal argument with myself about how to properly start a relationship?

So I proceed on telling him that at first was exactly like he pointed out, things shifted though, and when he died in that Quell arena, I nearly lost it. My eyes water from recalling the unfortunate event, and Peeta must have noticed because he pulls me close to him.

"You don't have to relive that again if you don't want to. It's okay, you don't need to explain."

An enormous force tells me I have to. "No, I do." I almost shout. "I mean, I do. I've—I've played with your feelings one too many times. You deserve an explanation."

"Katniss, you don't—" he interrupts.

"Peeta, just this one time. Let me explain things to you. Okay?"

I can see a smile in his eyes. For once, my guts were right. He did want an explanation. "Okay," he says.

"Okay," I take a deep breath, then start. "During the first Games, I was… very confused about you. You told Haymitch you wanted us to train together but on the day of the interviews, all of a sudden, you want to be coached separately. I remember feeling betrayed; I got scared, too, because for there to be betrayal, there should've have been trust first. I didn't want to trust you," I look away when I say this, too overwhelmed by my admission.

"I thought you were so intent on getting close to me so you can easily kill me in the arena. When I think about it now, I want to punch myself for ever thinking such thing." I shake my head. "Peeta Mellark, my boy with the bread, wants to kill me? It's absurd."

He smiles.

"Then before it started, before the gong sounded, you looked at me and shook your head. You unhinged me, and I thought to myself, that's exactly what you want. To unhinge me so I get killed. It wasn't only later that I realized you were warning me, you were telling me to not go into the bloodbath. The next time I saw you, you were with the Careers. Just imagine what that sight did to my already confused mind. I was certain you really are hunting me down. Then as usual, later on I realized that you probably did that so you can monitor the Careers' actions and whereabouts, to make sure they never get to me. After I dropped the nest, I got stung, almost passed out, but you told me to run. There were three Peetas in front of me when you said that. The venom's pretty intoxicating. I guess that was the start of me knowing that I… can count on you."

"I teamed up with Rue," I say, my voice cracks when I said her name. "She helped me with the stings, blew up the Careers' supplies, she… you know." An unwanted and unavoidable tear slides down my cheek. Peeta wipes it away with his thumb. "Then they announced the rule change. Before I even know it, I'm shouting your name at the top of my lungs, trying to get to you, also giving away my location. When I realized what I've done, I couldn't understand anything about my thoughts. It was all 'I have to find Peeta, I have to save him,' and I just didn't know what else to do. So I set out to find you. Nursed you back to health."

"You mean, you brought me back from the dead."

"You kept on insisting that, even before, so I'm not going to argue with you on this."

"Really?"

"Yeah." I answer. He furrows his eyebrows, trying to remember, then shrugs. So I continue explaining, "Most of our kisses were for the cameras, I admit that, but there was one kiss that felt real." At this very moment I thanking the Creator for making tonight a very dark night. I'm _blushing._

"It made me want more," my voice is now so soft. "I didn't know what to make of that, so I settled on just being a teenager with uncontrollable hormones." That last statement comes out like a joke, which lifts the mood again.

"You told me you weren't good with words!"

I laugh, "This is your fault, Peeta! I spend too much time with you!"

"Oh, but you like it. I know you do," then Peeta Mellark _winks_ at me.

This makes me laugh harder, and him, too. "Oh my God, Peeta Mellark just winked at me! I'm melting, oh, save me!" I imitate the face the girls at my school make whenever they're talking about boys in the corridor. Peeta laughs at me even harder, so harder that no sound comes out of his mouth. It's just him and his silly face and closed eyes and slightly crooked smile. When we've calmed ourselves down, we're both out of breath. And he makes a pun out of that fact, "Katniss, you take my breath away."

I give his shoulder a playful shove, "Do you want to hear the rest of my… story, explanation… justification, whatever?"

"Are you sleepy?" he asks. And truth is, I'm not. I tell him that.

"Then let's hear it."

"Okay, so where did we stop?"

"Um, you being a hormonal teenager?"

"Oh, yeah. That." I smile. "After that, on the train home, we… things got complicated. You told me it was real for you, I told you it wasn't for me. You were… disappointed in me for months. Then I fractured my ankle from jumping from a tree branch and you took care of me. Then we tried being friends, which turned out okay, but the Quell was announced. I got depressed and such. You insisted that we train, like Careers do, even if it's illegal. In that period of time, you kind of like abandoned any pretense of being my friend. You were treating me solely just as a trainer would to his student. Then the reaping came, Haymitch was chosen…, you volunteered. I was mad at you, I knew I was but the grief was too much. I had no energy to waste on being mad at you. On the train to the Capitol, we hugged. I remember feeling your lips on my neck and not wanting to let go but the Capitol attendant I asked to bring a warm glass of milk interrupted us. For every night, you held me in your arms while we slept, to ward off the nightmares. You made me feel safe even when I thought I could never be again.

"We watched a recap of the reapings from the different districts, Haymitch ordered us to make friends because we were at a disadvantage. I disagreed, mostly because I only wanted you by my side. More people around, more effort to watch over you. But during the Quell we had allies. You remember them, right?"

He nods.

"On that first day, you fought off a tribute in the water and won even if you didn't know how to swim. I was proud of you and relieved, too. That same day, you hit the force field with your knife and got electrocuted. I cried when I couldn't hear your heartbeat. Finnick… he saved you, though. And I'll forever be grateful for that."

I say a silent message to him, _'Hey, Finn, I know you're up there… Thank you for everything, for saving Peeta, for keeping me company in Thirteen, for loving Annie, for helping me realize, even just for a bit, that I love Peeta, for sacrificing yourself to save us. Thank you, thank you so much. Do me a favor and take care of Prim and Rue for me, okay? We'll take care of Annie.'_

I make a mental note to mention inviting Annie and his son over for a visit when they're available.

A tear rolls on my cheek. I hastily wipe it using the back of my hand. I glance up at Peeta and his eyes meet mine. It's filled with so much sorrow and joy and… _love?_

He cups my cheek and kisses me gently.

_Yes, love._

I don't think I could ever love him more than I do at this moment.

"That was the start of everything, I guess. Every single second after your heart stopped, I thought of you. And on the beach, when we kissed, that felt real, too." I blink, my eyelids now feel heavy but I don't pay them mind. Tonight I'm getting this over with. "All of these things though, in the Quell, they're so… on the surface…? Compared to what I felt in Thirteen. Everything was just more intense. The longing for you… I dream of having nightmares just to feel your arms again. I spend hours crying myself to sleep. I roll the pearl on my lips, pretending that it's your lips. Even the anger I felt for you was deeper, when you hated me. My… love for you, too." I leave it hanging there.

He takes this opportunity to speak. "I know," he tells me. "I felt it, on that mission. The way you didn't want me to kill myself, or the way you held on to me when I was fighting off an episode. I guess that was what kept me sane, your love."

I am, once again, shocked into silence.

_He felt it._

_He knew._

I guess people do seem to know my secrets before I even know them myself.

"I don't know what to say to that," I say softly.

"Then just continue," he says. "You did that to me, too, earlier."

Right. When I told him about kissing me and such.

I think, what else is there to say? Then I remember what my mother told me. "You know what my mom told me? She said, 'To be honest, dear, I don't think you're confused.'" I pause and look at him. '"You're just afraid.'"

I reach out to touch his face. "Do you remember what I told Cinna when he told me that he'd be lighting us up for the parade?"

He raises his eyebrows, furrows them, then his face morphs into one of enlightenment.

"I'm not afraid," he says, repeating my exact words.

I shake my head at him. "Not anymore."

* * *

**A/N: So... I'm back. If you're wondering why I update quickly, it's just because I hate to be kept waiting so I won't do that to you. **

**Thanks for the favorites and reviews and follows! All are appreciated.**


	6. Chapter Six

**A/N: It's been a while. Sorry for the long wait, kind of got stuck and was also busy. Here you go though. Not my best chapter.**

* * *

Right now Peeta's asleep, his head on my lap, the both of us enjoying the little time we have left to be with each other. Or at least I am. It's been a tiring day for the both of us. This afternoon I spotted a brood of turkeys on the way to strawberry patch I found which is nearer to the fence compared to the one near the lake. I manage to take down three turkeys and to fill my bag with at least two dozen strawberries. If not for Peeta and his influence, I would never have stepped within a 50-mile radius of a strawberry ever again because they remind me of the only other friend I had in my life. She didn't make it, but at least I haven't forgotten her. I have enough to remind me of the people I love.

The bricks for the ovens in the bakery have also arrived earlier this day and so Peeta and Thom's crew had to wheel them from the train station to the bakery in town. When I got back from my hunt, Peeta was dripping in sweat and had refused to let me get close to him, said he smelled of sweat and ash and dust. I tried to convince him I don't give a damn about how he smelled but my efforts were in vain. We walked back home together, dropped off some game to Sae, and with me trying to get the closest I could to him.

The day started a bit different than the usual though. We played Real or Not Real again after so many months, all because he wasn't sure last night, or everything that happened after him getting off of the train really, was real. When I glanced up at him this morning, I knew something was bothering him, so I asked.

"You alright?"

He does that thing with his jaw, "Did we—did you… Um…" He looks away, as if embarrassed.

"What is it?" I say, half amused, half confused.

He thinks, piecing up his question. I have now noticed that his fingers are caressing the tiny bit of exposed skin on my waist. This makes me want to, believe it or not, giggle.

"Was yesterday… real?" he asks vaguely. I'm a bit offended at how careful he is when it comes to me. I want him to be open, to not be afraid of telling me things. I want him to feel like he can tell me anything. It's not like a word could send me into a fit of hysterics.

_Oh, but remember when you hid in your closet when you heard a mockingjay sing a couple of notes? Or how you sat on the bed all day because the news anchor in the television mentioned something about little ducks?_

Okay, maybe I am sensitive.

But still, this is him. It's different when it comes to him. It always has been, although I didn't want it to be.

_Because seriously, who would have thought Katniss Everdeen is still capable of this kind of affection? That she could find someone who's willing to spend the rest of his life with her?_

Definitely not me.

"You mean, did we kiss yesterday?" I rephrase his question.

"Um, yeah," he's intent on not meeting my gaze. "Did we?"

"Yes," I make him face me. "We did."

He seems convinced, with his smirk and everything. Carefully, he kisses the top of my forehead, then my nose, for a second I think he's going to kiss me on the lips, I wish he does, but he doesn't. I raise my eyebrows in question.

"We haven't brushed our teeth yet," he explains.

I'm up and heading for the bathroom faster than you could say 'I'm excited.'

He's laughing, following me into the bathroom. I grab my toothbrush and hand him his, a pea-sized droplet of toothpaste already on the bristles. "You're not excited, are you?"

I shake my head at his reflection in the mirror, not being able to mutter a reply because my mouth's already half-filled with bubbles. He smiles.

You could guess what happened after we finished brushing our teeth.

And it—all of this, actually—weirds me out because it's so new, and so exciting. Not that I didn't love him before, I unconsciously did but this time around, I'm not restraining myself. I love him and he knows it. Though I've never said the words out loud yet, I don't know why, but I just can't. I like to believe it has nothing to do with how much I love Peeta, just solely about my inability to ever say those three words because I never thought I would find someone worthy enough to hear those coming from me in a romantic way.

* * *

On the couch in our living room, minutes before he fell asleep, I brought up writing a letter to Annie to invite her over sometime so we can take care of her, the same way I know Finnick's taking care of Prim, too. He agreed to it and told me it's a great idea, and I'm rewarded with a kiss. Well, it was more like a ransom type of thing. I threatened to hide all of his painting supplies in the woods if he didn't kiss me.

We decided to write Annie a letter next Wednesday afternoon, and I promised to drop it off the following day. He took my hands that were lost in his hair and kissed the tip of my fingers so gently. When he finished, I bent down and returned his kisses.

So that's how we ended up here, my fingers playing with the blond curls covering his head that is on my lap. I'm feeling sleepy, too, so I wake him up. He opens his eyes slowly, "Hm?"

"Let's go upstairs," I tell him, my voice coming out more softly than I intended to. Peeta sits up sleepily and takes my hand, leading me to our bedroom. When we get inside, he flops face down on the bed, pulling me with him. I smile at the sight of him half lying, half hanging on our bed. I take his prosthetic off and make him lie properly. He does, and I settle beside him. After planting a kiss between his collar bones, I switch the bedside lamp off and fall asleep.

* * *

Though Sundays are working days for us both, it's kind of like a lazy day. I mean, we still get up early and do our things but we go home earlier, too. Usually after four arrows I head back home, and for Peeta I think it's two loaves or three batches of cookies or something. I don't really get why Peeta still goes to work. He has Josiah, a boy just a couple years younger than us from Thirteen who decided to move in to Twelve, to take care of his bakery. But I guess it's his bakery, so he can do whatever he wants. And plus, I get to spend my day out in the woods so I'm not really complaining.

Well, maybe I am, but just a bit. I still get to come home to him, don't I?

Peeta suggests we write the letter to Annie today instead, so we can get her response some time next week. I had everything we needed—a pen, some paper, couple of envelopes, stamps—but not the words. I don't think I've ever written a single formal letter in my 18 years of existence. Peeta seems to have though, and he tells me that letter writing was part of his therapy back in the Capitol. In fact, he wrote letters addressed to me. I make him promise to show me those letters when he's ready. He does.

He also tells me about an upcoming experimental festival the whole country is going to celebrate. It's to be called Harvest Festival and is set to happen after the snow melts. He says that it's because the people want the cornucopia to symbolize something positive, something people can look forward to. This comes out randomly so I ask him why he brought it up. He tells me everyone who is capable is invited to set up booths and stalls during the festival and he's planning to set one up for the bakery. I tell him I'd be happy to help him.

We spend the last few hours before sunset brainstorming ideas for new recipes, things like raspberry and nut filled croissants, rolls with strawberries in them, cookies with pieces of chocolate on top with a hint of mint and a lot more. My favorite is the cheese loaf, it's like a cheese bun, but bigger. Peeta laughed at first when I suggested it and told me that he could just have made me bigger cheese buns instead of making a whole loaf but he said he would try. For me.

The next few days pass by in a blur, we've gotten a letter from Annie telling us that she is, in fact, most of the time free, and is very excited to visit us. She asked if the end of the month would be okay for her visit, and we write her another letter to confirm things.

Today's Tuesday and after another long day of sweat and exhaustion, we're on our bed again, reaching the end of our daily routine. "Katniss?"

I turn my head towards him, "Yeah?"

"Ever been on a date?"

I look at him uncertainly, then say, "No. I didn't do relationships until you."

A smile crawls its way onto his lips, "But you do know what dates are, right?"

"People in relationships go on dates to know each other more, usually over a plate of food or something."

"I'm glad you know, and I want to ask you out on a date."

_What?_

"It's been my dream for years, one of the things that confused me when I was hijacked actually, to take you, Katniss Everdeen, out on a date. I just realized I have fulfilled almost every other dream except that and a couple of other things. But if you don't want to, it's okay."

I seem to have said 'what' out loud, hence, the explanation. I didn't mean to sound very shocked and appalled by the idea, but I think I did. "No, no, I mean, yeah. That's fine with me." I say, though I'm not sure that's how you properly accept invitations.

"Really? How about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Like, tomorrow as in the day that comes when we wake up from tonight's sleep? Don't you have to prepare?" Because I do.

"I've been planning this for weeks but you've used up almost every day off for the past month."

The thought of Peeta planning this brings a smile to my lips. "Okay, tomorrow then. What time?"

"Um, 7 sounds good?" he asks.

"Sure, then 7 it is."

The next morning Peeta has left me a note on our bedside table saying he's up earlier so he can make the arrangements. I didn't plan on prepping up for this but now, after he's told me that he has something in mind, I feel the need to prepare. To disappoint Peeta… that's something I'd never ever risk.

I head to the bathroom where all of our supplies are and decide on leaving my face plain as possible when I make myself up later in the afternoon. I pick the things I'll probably be using later and set them on one side of the counter. Cinna has left me tons of clothes, from undergarments to earmuffs, so I'd never have to shop again. His masterpieces do not often find themselves worn, not just because I'm not comfortable, but because they're from Cinna. He died because of me. And I still think I'm unworthy, I'm not someone people should have died for.

But still, he would want me to wear the beautiful clothes he made. I will myself to enter the small walk-in closet, taking small steps at a time. My tears almost start dripping like tap water the moment I lay my eyes upon the bright yellow dress I wore on that interview after the Games. Skimming through the rest of his creations, I settle on the dark green dress with an orange lace-like sleeve that hangs just above my knees. Avoiding all of the other dresses Cinna made, I quickly make my way back to our room.

For the whole day, I worry about what's going to happen later, at 7 o' clock. The number of times I've gone to check if everything's prepared would surely outnumber the times I spent trying to get Buttercup away from the primroses at our front porch. I can't blame him though, I want to be near the flowers my sister was named after as much as possible, too. At around 4 in the afternoon, I start preparing. Putting on the dress, which luckily still fits me. Or I am luckily still almost the same size I was before. A small amount of lipstick and blush on should do it. Frankly, I have no idea what I'm doing but I've been made up by my prep team for a lot of times before so practically almost know what to do. It's not as heavy as it is when my prep team does it but it should pass. A special blazer of some sort completes my get up. I leave my hair down to shield me further from the cold.

When I've finished, it's just ten minutes before 7. I can't stop bouncing on my ankles so I take a seat on the couch and wait for Peeta instead. This is something I've never done before and it's weird to think that because I have murdered people but I've never been on a date. I guess normal doesn't really describe me.

A knock on the door startles me and when I rush to open it, I'm greeted by the winter breeze and… someone who isn't Peeta.

The man's dressed in black from head to toe in and if ever he hid in a corner he would blend in perfectly if not for his light blond hair. 'Soldier R. Hawke' is embroidered in yellow thread on his left chest pocket. "Ms. Everdeen?"

"Um, that's me." I say. Confusion still fills my head. Peeta wouldn't have asked the military to escort me to him, so who exactly is this man?

"I have orders to give this letter to you," he says, handing me a medium-sized brown envelope.

"Oh, who's this from?" I ask, taking the envelope from him. He answers, uttering a name I never wished to hear again.

"From General Gale Hawthorne."


	7. Chapter Seven

**_A/N:_ Here's another chapter! Sorry for the slow updates, I'm kind of finding it hard to connect the ideas I have on my mind. I'll manage, though. Thanks for the favorites, follows and reviews! All are greatly appreciated.**

* * *

_Dear Katniss,_

_I'm not much for words, you know that. We've had years of building a relationship between the two of us, understanding each other just by our actions. I don't really know how to put this lightly, so I'll be straightforward._

_I'm sorry, Catnip. I know you blame me for what happened to her and I swear I never would have allowed them to use my design if I had known she would be there, too. But it wasn't my fault, you should know that. But still, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't go back to Twelve to help you. And I'd like to correct that. The Capitol has allowed me to visit for a week, together with my family. They'd be staying longer than me for they don't have as much responsibilities as I do. I'll see you soon. Hope you're doing okay._

_Gale Hawthorne, _

_General, Elite Squad of District 2_

A soft series of knocks takes my attention away from the letter I'm holding. I hastily fold it and place it in my pocket before attending to the door. My hands are shaking lightly as I reach for the doorknob.

Please let this be Peeta.

I audibly let out the breath I was holding when I see that it is him. Peeta's holding a bouquet of yellow and pink flowers. "Is everything okay, Katniss?"

He must have noticed the immediate relief on my face when I saw him. "Yeah, I'm just nervous." I give him a smile that I hope would be convincing enough.

"Ready?" he asks, offering his arm. I take it gladly and cling to him for dear life. "Oh, these are for you."

"Thank you," I say.

"You sure everything's alright? You seem occupied." He says.

Oh Peeta, I am, but I don't want to ruin this night.

He pulls me to a stop and gently guides me so I'm facing him. "Katniss, you know you can trust me… is there anything wrong?" he asks. "We could do this," he gestures to the flowers, "some other time."

His voice is tinted with so much sadness, I'm not sure if it's for me or him, but sadness still. I feel guilty seeing how much trouble I put him through. It's like I'm watching the Games and I'm seeing him get stung by tracker jackers, fight Cato, almost bleed to death, get his feelings stepped on, lose his leg, become the target of other tributes, die, be brought back to life only because they know I won't trust them if he's gone, then he gets tortured—electrocuted, drowned, burned, whipped, beaten, wounded—brainwashed, convinced that I'm a mutt, rescued, only to see me again, a person he believes to be a mutt, then people tried to brainwash him again, this time convincing him that I'm not what he thinks I am.

All of that because of me.

If only our paths hadn't crossed, then there might be a chance that he could have found somebody else. Someone who's more worthy than me.

It's too much. Nobody this kind should ever have to experience all of that. He deserves to be happy, he deserves a lot more than what he gets. He deserves to get all the rainbows and sunshine and brightly colored flowers for the rest of his life. He deserves the whole world and the moon and all the other planets in this small speck of a universe we have.

He deserves someone better. Not me.

I don't deserve him.

All of this hits me and I'm filled with annoyance. "It's not your business, Peeta." I break away from his gaze and start angrily toward my house. "Don't," I add. I know he'll follow me, and I can't let him do that. I can't make his life even more miserable than it already is.

"Katniss!"

I run as fast as I can to my room but he's a lot bigger, his legs longer, so it only takes him a few steps to catch up to me. He catches my waist and I'm pulled backwards, slamming into his chest. "Katniss, stop!" I wriggle myself out of his grasp. "Please, stop fighting me." He shifts so he's clutching me to him with my arms squeezed in between our bodies, making it hard to break free.

I feel weak. I feel like the girl who sat underneath an apple tree after she tried to trade some of her younger sister's old clothes. My legs crumble beneath me and I'm certain the only reason why I'm still standing is because Peeta's holding me up. He hugs me tighter, "Katniss, what's wrong? What happened? Please tell me, did I do something?"

"You deserve to be happy, Peeta! All I seem to bring you is sadness and trouble and danger and near-death encounters! I can't- I can't take it when I don't see you happy, especially if the reason is me. I just can't! You deserve the whole world, Peeta. A whole woman, not just a battered shell. I… You deserve someone better. Not me…" At this point I'm sobbing on his chest, wetting his dress shirt.

"Oh, Katniss," he whispers. "I thought you knew that there's never going to be another woman for me. It's just you. It's always you." He presses his lips to my temple. "You're aware of what the Capitol did to me, and look at us now. No science or any bullshit can make me not love you forever. And you're not just a shell, Katniss. You're still whole, just different. And if you think you're just a shell of who you once were, let me remind you that I am, too. And you make me happy. When you let me into your life again, I swear I felt like I could fly. Every time you smile, when I make you smile, I feel like the luckiest man in the world. You make me happy, Katniss. Don't push me away because of what I went through in the past. You won't be doing me any favors."

"But I hurt you, Peeta. And now I'm hurting you again."

"I don't care if you do. I'm willing to endure any pain if it's for you. I love you. And sometimes I get scared of just how much I do. When I remember everything, every second, minute of pain I experienced for you, and I know that today I still love you, it scares me, Katniss. Because I love you more than I love myself." He cups my face and brings his close to mine. "I do, I still do."

His eyes are pleading for me to let him in.

And it's like whatever cloud that was meddling with my thoughts has passed, my mind has cleared. The first thought that comes onto my mind is how stupid I was for even thinking Peeta would care if I hurt him. This boy would die for me, literally did once. I want to ask for forgiveness, to tell him that I love him, too, and it scares me just the same. Because I love him more than myself, too. But I can't, my thoughts are scattered and I'm left trying in vain to form a single sentence. The only word I get out is, "Peeta."

"Yeah?" he asks breathlessly.

I bring my hands up and pull him to me, crashing my lips to his. I kiss him to let him feel what I want to say, until he gets my message. Something wells in my chest again, like before, in the cave and on the beach. I hope he feels it, too. When we pull away, his eyes are glazed with tears.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I'm not sure what's gotten into me."

He visibly relaxes and releases his grip on my waist. "I thought you were going to dump me," he says. "Before our first date."

His words from minutes ago are still ringing in my ears. "_I'm willing to endure any pain if it's for you. I love you. And sometimes I get scared of just how much I do… it scares me, Katniss. Because I love you more than I love myself."_

"D-did you mean what you said?"

A look of confusion goes washes over his face. "I said a lot of things, but yeah, I meant every single word." '_I love you, Katniss.'_

"You… love me?"

"Well, wasn't it obvio—no, I mean like, I—did. Yeah, yes. I do."

This is unbelievable. This boy in front of me, who once believed I was the one to be killed, loves me?

_Well, he did agree to the both of you starting a relationship, moron. And of course he does, loving you is like breathing to him. It's you who needed a lot of pushing._

"You don't have to say it back," he says softly. "It can wait. I can wait."

"You waited long enough, don't you think?"

"I'm not denying it." He teases. "But I've got a patience molded from years of fighting and teasing from slightly playfully abusive brothers. It's pretty long, trust me."

That's one thing we haven't talked about much. Trust. A special gift you can give to someone and just hope the person would be careful and not break it. In our case, it's a given, I guess. After not just one, but two Hunger Games plus a war, a hijacking, and quite an unforgettable past, there's pretty much a lot of trust. My hands fall to my side and hit my pocket. A crunching sound fills my ears. _Gale._

"Who?" he asks.

"Um, uh, did I say that out loud? He… he wrote to me."

"Who wrote to you?"

"G-gale did." I'm expecting him to leave me right now and slam his house's door in my face. Instead he takes both of my hands and squeezes them. "Katniss, when were you planning to tell me this?"

"Well, before I lost my head, I was planning to tell you when we get home." I tell him. His lips are pressed together in what exactly, I don't know.

"Come on, let's go inside."

After Peeta has read Gale's letter, all he asked was why he is now addressed as General. Of all the things written in the letter he should be concerned about, he asked about his damn title. When I confronted him though, he said that it doesn't bother him—Gale coming here, that is—and he would like him and me to rebuild whatever we had. He said that when the Hawthornes come, we should invite them over for some tea or for dinner for some catching up. I'm a bit reluctant when I said yes to his suggestion because I haven't quite separated Gale from the bomb that took my sister away from me. He says it's alright for me to feel afraid or nervous or both. He says he'd be there for me. He says he'd always be.

* * *

The following week, Annie arrives together with her son and my mom. Little Finn was just as charming as his father, same green eyes, and bronze hair. He's starting to get a bit of a tan, too. Annie looks better than she did in Thirteen. My mom, too. On our first day together we just sat in the house and caught up on each other's lives. We learned that the rebuilding is almost halfway through in Four, and Annie, her talent being more on the visual art side, was asked to design the houses. A monument is also underway to honor everyone who have fallen during the war. My mom has been appointed assistant of the head nurse of the hospital in Four, too. According to the both of them, she'd be promoted once the current head nurse retires. During the course of our conversation, the subject of marriage and kids surfaces. I feel a bit uncomfortable, but I'm not as appalled to the idea as I used to be. Somebody from the two of our visitors asks me and Peeta about it, and we just tell them we're taking it slow.

It's 10 in the evening when we finish. Peeta shows Annie and Finn to one of the guest rooms we have. My mom stays with me for a while.

"So, I can see you've made up your mind."

I shoot her a confused look. "On what?"

"On him?"

I feel my cheeks go hot, "What made you say that?"

"You two were holding hands," she points out.

"W-we were?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

"Mmhmm, but that's okay with me, now. You can date. I realized weeks ago how dumb I was to restrain you when you came back from…" she lets it hang because she's well aware of how much pain I had to go through in the Games. I'm just about to reply when I realized that she said I can 'date'.

What Peeta and I have is more than just dating. Hell, we haven't had a real date yet, for that matter.

"I don't think Peeta and I are dating, " I tell her. "It's… more than that."

Her eyes widen and I realize that sounded wrong. "No, not like that! I mean, we haven't even gone out together yet. But it's… what we have is more than just dating. It's like we're best friends who happen to have feelings for each other or something. I don't know how to put it exactly, but 'dating' doesn't really encompass what we do. We're like… partners."

"Oh, well I'm glad to hear that. Really, Katniss. I'm happy you've finally found someone you're sure you can trust." I have no idea what to say to that so I just thank her.

"You know, if this does anything, I just want to tell you I knew Gale wasn't for you." His name makes me flinch. "You two are too alike, you needed a calming personality."

"You should have told me that when I was having trouble figuring out my feelings," I joke. My mother smiles and pulls me to a hug. Peeta peeks from the doorway and informs us that he's going to bed. I tell him I'll come upstairs soon and pull away from my mother's embrace. Holding her hand for the first time in years, I lead her to another guest room but she insists it's alright for her to stay with Annie. After several doors, we finally manage to find where Peeta took our other guests. We say goodnight to each other and my feet automatically take me to the place where I know I'll be safe. When I lay down, his arms wrap around my waist and I'm left wondering, again, why I ever considered Gale.

Peeta's not beside me when I open my eyes but the smell of baking bread fills my nose and I calm down. I find the four of them downstairs at the table, Annie playing peek-a-boo with Finn, my mom cooking our breakfast, and Peeta drinking his coffee. They spot me and greet me a good morning.

"Good morning, too," I say, placing a peck on Peeta's lips. He hands me a cup of tea, just the way I want it. I wonder when Peeta knew I liked it this way.

Taking a seat across my mom, I watch as Peeta pulls out two loaves of bread from the oven. I can tell which one contains nuts and raisins and which one is plain.

I spend too much time with him when he's baking.

After breakfast, the weather's now starting to warm up again, we show them around town. A lot of residents recognize my mom and they exchange a few greetings along the way. We trudge up the bakery for them to see what Peeta's been up to. Finn enjoys five cookies that morning. We go to Sae's canteen for lunch and she serves us squirrel stew, one of her specialties. My mom and she tell stories, and it dawns on me that maybe, just maybe, my mom is finally _back._ Not the silent, ignorant, unmoving woman we had for years, but the woman who smiled and told us bedtime stories and sang to us and took us to her favorite places… that woman was back. The thought makes me smile.

"You look happy."

I jump in surprise and he laughs. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"I'm just glad my mom's back. And that you're here with me."

He smiles. "That's nice."

"Hey, Peeta, it's not Wednesday today. Aren't you supposed to be in the bakery?"

"I figured I have Josiah to take care of that, and I hired another one last Friday. Remember Chris? The boy who had heterochromia? One green eye, one blue?"

"Oh, that boy!" Chris was originally from Two but he decided to move here for a fresh start. He's taller than Peeta, has dark hair, too so he blended in just right. In some ways, he's like the amalgamation of all the things I loved about my hunting partner and my partner. I wouldn't trade Peeta for him, though.

We head back home after that and rest, Annie and her son take a nap in the guest room. My mom cleans the house even if it's almost spotless. She wouldn't back down. Maybe I got my stubbornness from her.

At dinner we tell each other stories again, and in the middle of our conversation Finn yelled "Mama!" which all got our attention.

"Yes, dear?" Annie says.

"Where's Chuck?" the boy asks.

"Oh, he's at home remember?"

"Who's Chuck?" I ask to no one in particular, and surprisingly Finn answers me.

"It's our dog. He's huuuuuuge!" he exclaims, extending his arms to show us just how big the said dog is. "And black and brown. He likes to swim. He swims with me in the ocean and when I throw a stick, he gets it. I like playing with Chuck. I hope he doesn't go away."

His last statement silences us, because he's already afraid of someone he loves leaving him at such a young age. I'm reminded again of the reasons why I won't ever have a child. And I'm afraid if we ever get to that point in our relationship, I won't be able to say no to Peeta.

It's my mom who finally speaks, "He's not going anywhere just yet, Finn."

The little boy nods and yawns. "I'm sleepy," he says. Annie takes him into her arms and excuses themselves. The three of us watch as she sways her little carbon copy of her husband to sleep.


	8. Chapter Eight

**A/N: The reviews and favorites and follows have dwindled down but I'm finishing this fanfic no matter what. Thank you guys for the support though.**

* * *

They leave for District Four the next morning, Finn excitedly carrying a box of green-colored cookies made by Peeta. The snow's definitely starting to melt, giving us a cool breeze. Annie promises to write to us more often and invites us to visit them in Four sometime. We tell them we'd see what we can do, seeing that I'm not allowed to leave the district just yet. We leave that last bit out, though. They leave us with smiles on their faces and a hint of sadness in their eyes. But it's the good kind of sadness, the one that means they're not ready to leave yet. But according to Dr. Brax—Annie's doctor—that's just how much time he allowed her, or them, to visit. There's nothing we could do about that.

By midday, we've gone back home from the station, every bit of energy drained from our bodies. I don't think we can handle any more visitors. So, we head straight upstairs and take a well-deserved nap. Peeta holds me close as we sleep, with me nestled against his torso.

The nightmare comes unexpectedly and before I even know it, I'm thrashing around, trying to run away from whatever it was that was chasing me… and something—someone—else.

"Katniss! Hey, wake up, wake up."

Eventually reality catches up to me and I register what I'm seeing. Peeta's on top of me, both of his hands pinning down both of mine. His eyes look frantic and he's breathing heavily.

"You're okay, Katniss." He drops his head down and presses his forehead against mine. "You scared me."

What he said confuses me, "Scared you? Why?"

"You were screaming like mad. You were screaming my name. I had no idea what to do." He explains. The nightmare is fading every second, harder to recall. Peeta doesn't push me and settles on holding me instead as I try not to cry.

I fail terribly.

My sobs wrack my whole body, it's like an earthquake that has been suppressed for so long has now been released and is shaking every last bit of muscle I have. I'm not crying about what I dreamt, I'm crying because I thought the nightmares have finally left me for good. I had none for months! I thought I was doing great, that whatever Peeta and I are doing, it's working, but it wasn't. And now that they're back, I feel worse than before.

I don't realize how tight I'm hugging Peeta until he squeezes me. Loosening my clutch on him, not too much though, I start to relax. There won't be progress without setbacks, right? I convince myself that it's alright. I've been through everything. I'm allowed to have nightmares every once in a while.

"It's alright, Katniss. I'm here."

"I know," I whisper back. My voice sounds so frail.

"Oh, it's actually getting late. I'll go get some dinner, you can stay here if you want."

"No!" I scream. The thought of being alone frightens me. "I'll- I'll come with you."

"You don't have to, I'll just be downstairs."

"No, Peeta. I… can't." He observes me, then he understands. He sighs, pulls our blanket higher up our entangled limbs. I feel him drop a kiss on my head.

"Of course," he says. "I was dumb not to get it right away. I'm sorry."

* * *

By the time we open our eyes again, sunlight is streaming through our almost constantly open bedroom window. A mockingjay is perched on the sill, its head tilted to the side, watching us. It whistles a few tunes before flying away. Peeta looks at me, then to the window, then back at me again. His eyes widen, "Oh God! I slept in!" He swipes his palm across his face in exasperation. "We had no dinner, then now, no breakfast!"

"I'm sorry," I say. "That's partly my fault."

He just sighs and pulls me up to my feet. Together we go down the stairs, our arms on each other's waist. He lets me sit on the kitchen stool as he tries to find something to eat.

A couple of cabinets and drawers later, we finally have eggs and some bacon strips on our plate. A knock on the door disturbs our rather peaceful morning. I tell Peeta I'll get it. A delivery man, a _real_ delivery man, stands by our front door holding a box and hands it to me.

"Delivery for Mr. Mellark?" he asks. He's about to say something but he must have understood what was happening, why I'm in front of him, and why the delivery is addressed to my house instead of his. "Oh, Ms. Everdeen, please just sign here, here, and here."

I do as he says, and he leaves. As I'm turning to get inside the house, a very familiar voice calls out my name.

_God. No, not him._

"Hey, Catnip." I can hear a smile in his voice. _Deep breaths. Be civilized. Do not try to kill him._

I turn to face him, "Hello, Gale."

He has—had—a smug smile on his lips but it falters as he takes in my appearance. My hair is still in its braid but its all messy now. My shirt's crumpled. I look like a hurricane.

"You look… different."

"Ditto," I say, because it's true. He's had a haircut, recently too. The sides of his head are shaved, there are wrinkles starting to appear on his forehead. He looks like he's aged 10 years. His clothes are of the same kind as the soldier's uniform who delivered his letter a week ago. I hear footsteps from behind me and in an instant, I'm trembling. Cursing under my breath, I feel him emerge from behind me, taking his place beside me.

"Oh," he breathes. "So that's why. Hello, Gale. Tea?"

"Mellark," the dark haired man in front of me nods his head a bit as a form of greeting, I think. "Didn't think I'd see you here so soon."

Peeta ignores Gale's jab at his mental state. Instead, he wraps his arm around my waist and guides me back to the kitchen. "Come in, if you want. We're just having breakfast," he calls as we walk away.

I'm surprised to see Gale sitting at the other side of the table when we turn around. I sit on my chair as Peeta prepares a plate for our unexpected guest. The said guest is looking around, probably taking inventory of everything in our house as _trained soldiers_ do when they're in unfamiliar territory.

"Lots of knives here," he says. "Probably one too many."

I'm fuming. I'm about to make a very nasty comment about etiquette and personal choices but Peeta shoots me a look that says _be nice, Katniss._

"Well, this is the kitchen. Of course there's a lot of knives."

"When did you get back, Peeta?" he asks.

"Months ago, August, I think."

Gale raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, just 5 months after the war?"

Peeta nods then places the plate in front of Gale. A bit too heavily, though. As we're eating, Gale never takes his eyes off of Peeta. I pretend not to notice. "Wait, when did they promote you to being General?" Peeta asks, waving his fork in the process.

"Right after I've completed my training. They said I was born for it," Gale answers. "Good aim and coordination and other things."

Peeta just nods. He finishes first and cleans his plate. A pitcher of juice lands on the table with a soft thump a minute after. "I'll be upstairs. Need to take a shower."

Gale looks confused but he says, "So, Katniss, how are you? I'm back here now, you can tell me anything."

_Can you stop acting like someone that isn't you?_ "I'm okay, life's surprisingly boring. Which I like since we've experienced too much action to last us a lifetime."

"Nothing you'd want to change? Bring back or leave?"

At this very moment, I'm extremely tempted to throw my fork at him. I keep it together though, and answer calmly, "I'd—I'd like my sister back. But aside from that, nothing else." He clenches his jaw at this and lowers his head.

"Nothing else?" He stands and sits on the chair to my right. _Please Gale, don't do anything stupid._ "Not even a chance to undo and change things?"

"Well, I'd like my old best friend back, Gale. Not this person you are now," I snap. "I'd like the one whom I can count on when I'm having problems, the one who doesn't try to force himself into my life as someone he can't be—"

"So, you can never really love me that way?" His voice is tainted with so much hurt but I shock myself by not feeling any kind of emotion for him except anger. I'm angry at him for leaving me, for not being the _best_ friend he should have been. I'm angry at him for trying to force me into loving him in a different way when he knew I couldn't. Because we only trusted each other due to necessity. If my dad hadn't died, then I wouldn't have accepted him into my life. He's too famous and handsome for my liking, too aggressive, too snappy and hotheaded. At least for Peeta, if he had more courage to approach me and showed me the kindness and love he shows me every day, I think I would have let him.

"No, Gale. I thought you would have realized that. And I think I've told you before."

"But why?" he asks, stubbornly.

"Because Peeta now knows me better than you do."

"Because of the Games? That's one thing! How about the grief of losing a father? Of having to feed your family when you should have been frolicking around and kissing your schoolmates and having fun? He doesn't know that! You don't love him, the Capitol forced you! It was just an act, you told me so."

"Gale! Things change, okay? And Peeta's no stranger to the grief of losing a father. He lost everything—father, mother, siblings—I'm all he has now. And, no, before you make a comment about that, let me tell you that isn't the reason why I'm staying with him. It's not pity I feel for him. I love him, Gale. And I'm really sorry I can't feel that way when it comes to you. I really am sorry. But if all you're going to do is to try to replace him, then leave."

He looks like I've slapped him, angry. Then his eyes soften, "No chance?"

I shake my head at him. "I'm sorry."

"It—it's alright, Katniss. I think I've got it. You've made it well clear."

Silence. It feels like forever. He stands and goes for the door. He steps out and I hear the knob click into place. A hand places itself on my shoulder and pulls me against a chest. My mind's wandering freely, from every little bit of me I shared with Gale up to every bit of me I now share with Peeta. I don't realize I'm crying until I wipe my cheeks.

"He just needs some time to himself," Peeta says. "What you told him was a lot to process. I would have broken down, too, if our roles were reversed."

_Wait, what? Broken down? Gale broke down?_ I ask Peeta this and he confirms it. "But don't worry. Give him time and you'll have your best friend back. Trust me."

I do.

* * *

The rest of the Hawthornes pay us a visit the following morning. We have tea and biscuits. They've all grown up, Hazelle looks less stressed—not having to look after them constantly now. Gale's absent, and Rory tells me he said having a headache so he didn't join us. Peeta and I know better. They leave before afternoon, and at the last minute, Peeta convinces me to accompany them. I walk them to their assigned house, the one farthest from ours, which is the first Victor's mansion in the village, since Gale is someone with a title. As I turn to head back, I catch a glance of him watching me from the window inside one of the rooms on the second floor. I don't acknowledge him, still too… _disappointed_ in him for not understanding.

When I get home, I grab Peeta by his collar, pin him against the wall and channel all the anger I have for my old friend into a kiss. He kisses me just as hard and somehow, we end up on the stairs. I feel hot all over.

"Katniss," he breathes. "What—Wha—"

Before he can even complete his question, my lips are on his again. He pulls away again though. "Katniss, wait. Why… What…"

"I want you, Peeta!" I scream.

He studies me for a moment like I'm some sort of intricate design on a cake. It frustrates me. "No, you don't. You're just troubled and you want an outlet."

"Oh, forget it! Screw this!" I stomp out the house and run to the only place I know I'll be at peace.

The cabin's floor is damp, its walls a bit moldy and cracking. Much like my insides. Curling up on the floor, I cry again for the _nth_ time in two days. I cry for everything that has gone wrong in my life that I can probably never fix. I cry for my dad, for him leaving too soon. For Prim, for not having enough time. For me, for losing my best friend, for being stupid, childish, stubborn, hatful, unlikable, forceful, moody, impatient, irrational. For being every negative thing in this forsaken world. It's too late when I realize that by crying, I'm just rubbing it in more deeply, all of my what-ifs and should-haves. This makes me cry harder.

I must have fallen asleep because when I lift my head up from my position, the sun's shining through the cracks in the door.

_God, Peeta must be worried sick. But he didn't want you, remember? Or were you too busy being an emotional wreck to do so?_

_Ugh, even I annoy myself._

I ignore me, just like everybody else does nowadays, and distract myself from everything. Traveling back to the edge of the forest, I spot geese peacefully drinking from a small stream. I retrieve my bow and arrows and shoot two of them. I shoot a squirrel, skin it and cook it so I have something to eat on my way back home. I forgot that I didn't have my bag with me so I tie my haul together and hang them from my shoulders. When I get home I'm sweaty and bloody and oily. No one's inside as far as I can tell. Randomly, I leave the geese on the counter and head upstairs for a shower.

Maybe I was half expecting Peeta to show up because when I see that our room's empty, I feel a stone set in my stomach. It weighs me down, and when I've reached the shower, I crumple to the floor and let the hot water droplets wash away all the soot and dirt from my body. I wish it could wash away the dirt on the inside, too.

* * *

Peeta's sitting on the side of the bed when I get out and the sight of him surprises me. The sight of me being half-naked surprises him, too. "Oh, you're here."

"I—uh, Katniss?" he stands, leans forward a little, probably deciding whether or not to walk up to me, then lingers there. "I'm… I'm sorry if I- I pushed you away last night. It's not that I didn't… feel the same way about you. I did. I do, but I want us to take this slow. The last time we rushed into things, I ended up deranged and you, broken."

I don't say anything in reply. I just walk. Walk towards him. He looks frightened—afraid—that I might slap him, maybe? But I don't. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck and lean my head against his shoulder. We've only been apart for hours, not even days, but I've missed him. His touch, his feel against me.

"You're right, I was stupid to do… that."

"So, we're okay?" he queries.

"We're okay, Peeta. You're too important to let go."

He chuckles. "Um, Katniss?"

"Hm?"

"Maybe some clothes on?"


	9. Chapter Nine

The snow melts completely in a week and that means it's time for the first Harvest Festival. Which also means Peeta's busier than before. He wakes up with the sun and goes home with the sun. The first few days were manageable, but along the way, I start missing him so much I can't function properly. I tell him this and he laughs. He tells me I can go visit him after my hunt, I can help him prepare, and then we'll go home together.

Gale still hasn't talked to me and whenever I realize that, I feel like curling up and hiding in my closet at home. It's all so confusing. Before they arrived I was certain I never wanted to interact with him for the rest of our lives. Then here they come and now I can't find peace because he's doing the exact thing I wanted him to do. So one night, again, I confide in Peeta.

After telling him how I feel, he turns away.

"Maybe you want him back. Have you ever thought of that? Maybe you're confused because you think you love me but in reality, you actually love him?"

"Peeta, no… It's not like that. You heard our conversation that first morning, right? I don't love him the way I do, you."

He tenses at this, then turns back to me. "You're sure about that?"

"Yes. I'm more than sure. It's a different kind of love I feel for him."

He mulls this over then tells me, "Maybe it's closure you want. Or if not, you just want him back, as your best friend."

_Peeta has summed up everything that has been bugging me in two sentences._

"Maybe," I say, ending our conversation. With that, we drift off to sleep.

* * *

When I wake up, I can vaguely remember a nightmare from the night before. Glimpses of explosions and fire and metal flash before my eyes.

"Hey," a voice above my head whispers. I look up to see a pair of sleepy bright blue eyes staring down at me.

"Hey," I answer.

"You were trembling, so I…"

"Oh, I just—I think I had a nightmare but it wasn't very clear."

"Two nights in a row, huh? Anxiety that bad?" he asks.

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. "You think this is about," Gale, I almost say. "…them?"

Peeta answers a bit defensively, "Well, you stopped having them, then when you got the letter, you almost broke up with me. The letter said they would be visiting some time soon, the following nights you had nightmares."

"Fine," I grumble. I hate to admit it but he's kind of right. It rings the truth.

"Katniss, you know it wasn't my intention to ruin our morning."

"I know, I know. I just didn't want to admit that what you said was true."

"The festival is in a few days," he informs me after a while. "The deliveries are scheduled to arrive today. If you want to help, just come down the bakery. I'll be there."

"Okay," I say as I get up. As part of our morning ritual, I pull him up with me so together, we can prepare for our day. I'm lucky Peeta's a morning person too because of his family's bakery. In the bathroom, we brush our teeth, oftentimes making silly faces in the mirror while doing so. I remember one time when he pulled a face it looked like he was in pain and I was so nervous I spit out the froth. He laughed so hard at what happened, his eyes started watering.

As I wait for him to finish showering—yes, we still shower apart because we haven't quite reached that stage of a relationship yet, although I wish that soon we would so we can save time, and partly because it's so… intimate, and I want to share that with Peeta—I lounge on the bed with my clothes on my stomach. He comes out with an undershirt and just a towel around his waist, I go into the bathroom and bathe.

When I finish, he's already downstairs, busy making us our morning drinks. Hot chocolate for him, tea for me. He jumps, whimpering in the process, when I hug him from behind then we laugh together.

Hand in hand, we walk towards town, to his bakery. I kiss him goodbye before heading to the meadow. After that kiss, I suddenly don't want to hunt anymore. What good is it, if we still have some leftover meat from three nights before?

I enter through the back door of the bakery and find him setting up for the long day ahead. When he spots me, he smiles and gestures for me to come close. I do, and that's basically how we spend our day—working close to each other.

We continue this until the day of the festival, where we head off from the bakery to the town square with layers upon layers of baked goods in our arms, Josiah and Chris following close. Stalls are everywhere: for clothes, herbs, tools, metal scraps and many more. Even Greasy Sae has set up one. This reminds me of our old black market. The thought weakens me, but in the corner of my eye, a flash of bright yellow catches my attention. It isn't the real thing, just an illustration, but the flower just the same. A picture, or rather, a very detailed illustration of a dandelion in the middle of a green field hangs above the Smith's stall, they now own the flower shop.

"You like that?" Peeta asks, sending my nostalgic thoughts to the back of my mind.

"Yeah, it's beautiful." I answer. He smiles ever so shyly, then the pieces connect. "_You painted that?_"

"They asked me to paint a flower, first thing that came on my mind was a dandelion."

He starts walking again, so I follow. We ready the stall for customers and when we've done everything that should be done, we rest.

"Did you know that you're kind of like my dandelion?"

"Hmm? Your dandelion?"

"Yeah, um, you remember about the bread, right? From when we were 12?"

He nods.

"Well, I wanted to thank you the next day at school but I couldn't muster up enough courage, especially seeing you with that bruise on your cheek. And when I looked down, I saw the first dandelion of the spring. It reminded me of the woods, then I knew how I was going to feed my family."

He doesn't reply but a smile has found its way on his lips, and for me, that's enough. "If it weren't for you, we would have died of hunger years ago."

"I'm glad you didn't, Katniss."

* * *

By 3 in the afternoon, I feel exhausted from all the lifting and interacting with the customers. I tell Peeta I'd be heading home to rest properly, and if afterwards I still have time, I'd go back. He agrees as expected, then sends me off with a loaf of cinnamon bread.

The walk home is uneventful, which is suiting given my exhaustion from the work we did. Buttercup tags along with me at some point. I tear off a chunk of bread and throw it to him, He leaves me after that. Damned cat, I knew he was only hungry.

After I've rested and cleaned up, the sun's only beginning to come down. The first day of the festival might be over, but I figured we could still walk home together after fixing things up for tomorrow.

This routine also continues until the last day of the festival. But before that though, Peeta comes home early. I'm braiding my hair when he arrives. I turn to greet him, and my knees almost buckle from what I see.

"What happened?!" I shout. A bruise has found its place underneath Peeta's eye.

"It's not what it looks like," he replies. "It's… Gale."

"Gale did this to you?! How dare he?! It's not like he's—"

"Katniss, let me explain first, okay? Well, yes, Gale punched me but we're on good terms."

"What? I don't think I can follow."

"Okay, this is going to be hard to understand," he starts. "Gale came up to me earlier, then he straight up punched me. I almost fought back but I thought of something. He promised me he'll do that, so I let him go without a fight."

"What did you make him promise? Why didn't you kicked his ass?! God, Peeta!"

"I told him to stop ignoring you and start being the best friend you need."

That definitely shut me up. At a loss for words, I close the distance between us and stand in front of him. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you told me you wanted your best friend back, remember? I saw the opportunity so I took it, Katniss. I'm done waiting."

I sigh, "What's done is done. Come on, let's fix you up."

On the last day of the Harvest Festival, everybody's in a, well, festive mood. The prices of the goods are lowered so people can buy more, and so less would be wasted. I went home at 3, rested and showered, as I did the days before.

From a distance, the stalls look like a town within a town. Banners and streamers line the street leading up the square. Walking closer, I spot Peeta leaning against the refreshments table, with a blonde girl _pressed against him._ I stop abruptly in my tracks and watch as he playfully _touches the girl's nose._

Then he _smiles_ at her.

The next moment his lips are on hers and I'm running back to my house.

I hear him call my name, but I don't stop running. He's drunk, I know he is.

My legs already feel tired as I pass by the former Seam-Town border but I push myself since I know that if I stop, he'll be right behind me. A pair of arms snatch me from behind and they don't feel familiar.

_Wait._

_They do._

_But I haven't felt them in a long while._

"Katniss," Gale says between gritted teeth. "Listen to him. I saw everything, listen to him. If he lies, I'll beat him up for you."

"Why are you even defending him?!" I yell.

"Because I made a promise, Katniss. Now please, listen." He loosens his grip on my arms but keeps them on their spots. I turn around to see Peeta trying to catch his breath.

"Katniss, it's—"

"Peeta, just tell her what happened, I already took care of that part."

"Okay," he breathes. "Gale and I were hanging out, and of course, since it's a time to celebrate, we drank. I admit I drank a bit too much, which should explain why I'm all slurry and stuff. Then Grace approached me. She said, 'you're drunk, Peeta.' Then I said, 'You're too close,' and lightly tapped her nose to distance myself a bit. Then she said, 'but you like it.' Which wasn't true so I smiled at her apologetically and tried to get away but since my body isn't quite that responsive, she was able to pull me down for a kiss. I broke away immediately, only it took a few more seconds because, again, I'm drunk. Then I saw you running so I ran after you and that's why we're here and I'm explaining this to you."

I look for confirmation from Gale and he nods. "That's what happened."

Looking back at Peeta, I see his fear instead of _him_. "I'm sorry," he says.

"Peeta can't control anybody else's actions, Katniss. Just his, and sometimes he can't even control that." Gale follows up. "He didn't do it. He didn't kiss her, _Grace kissed him._"

I consider both of their statements and make up my mind. "Okay," I whisper, feeling a bit guilty because of what Gale said. He was implying that what I did to him before is unforgivable, because I chose to do that. It's also part of the reason why I am forgiving Peeta—even though he did nothing wrong, but I'm stubborn that way—because he forgave me. So I'll do the same to him.

I hug Gale and thank him. He says goodnight, then I walk up to Peeta. He takes me by surprise when he kneels in front of me. He takes it further by bowing his head. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "Forgive me, please."

I gently touch his shoulder, guiding him back to a standing position. I hug him, too. "I think I should be the one asking you that, given that I wasn't willing to listen first before concluding."

"That's alright. I'm kind of used to that," he says. I pull away with a scowl on my face. "I'm kidding, Katniss."

"I'm serious."

"I'm sorry."

"Well, that's in the past. We got over it, come on. Let's go home, you drunkard. Wait 'til Haymitch hears about this."


	10. Chapter Ten

**A/N: I'll be very busy with school this upcoming week that's why I'm updating today. This might be the last for the month of February. Oh, by the way, thank you for all the reviews, follows and favorites! Believe it or not, they really help motivate a writer to finish whatever it is he/she is writing.**

* * *

It's Wednesday, and I almost forget that it's our day off. I'm already heading out the door when Peeta reminds me. I settle back underneath the covers and snuggle against him. I feel his breath on my neck, his heartbeat on my back. Sleep comes to me eventually.

For breakfast we share rolls over cups of hot chocolate. Peeta, as always, still hasn't let go of what happened last night and asks again for forgiveness.

I kiss all of his insecurities away.

By afternoon we start on the memory book since the materials arrived about a week ago, that same morning when Gale came over. We decide to list down everyone we're making pages of, and narrow down our choices to those whose pages would be the least painful. For today it's Lady, Prim's goat.

We finish early since there's little to paint and write, just the story of how I got her and how much Prim loved her. We're cleaning up when a knock on our door makes the both of us jump. "I'll get it," I say.

"Hi, Catnip."

"Gale," I nod. "C-come in."

"Oh, no need. I just wanted to ask, um, Peeta?" he shifts a little so he can see him.

"Oh, hey Gale. Anything you need?" Peeta answers.

"Uh, can I borrow Katniss for a moment?"

"Yeah, sure. Just bring her back," Peeta smiles.

_Great._ Gale gestures for me to follow him. A million bells ring in my head, telling me to stay alert. _But you hugged him yesterday, Katniss? Really?_

_Oh, shut up._

"Don't worry, Katniss. I'm not going to do anything to you."

"Then why are we here?" I ask. He's lead me near the fountain in the middle of the Victors' Village. He sits down on the marble bench and pats the spot beside him. I check our house and decide that it's safe, for Peeta can see me from our living room window, I take a seat.

"Katniss, I just wanted to tell you that I'm okay with Peeta."

Well, that was something I wasn't expecting. Of all the reasons Gale would want to talk to me I have listed in my head that was the very last one.

"Wh-what made you…?"

"I punched him, and he made me promise to not leave you. Again, for that matter. I think he deserves you," Gale smiles sadly. "You deserve him."

"I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to, it's me here who wanted to explain," he lifts his hand, palm up, and I place mine over his.

"Thank you, for understanding."

He embraces me. "I leave tomorrow, they need me there."

"Oh." _Why does everything have to be in my way?_ Now that I have him back, that I can love both of them again, he has to leave. I'm not ready yet, though I was happy with Peeta's company for the past months—I _am_ happy—I missed Gale. I missed my hunting partner. So, not letting this opportunity slip away from my grasp, I ask him out for a hunting trip. He says yes, of course.

After I've informed Peeta of our trip, we head off, taking the same route we took everyday years back. The meadow's starting to flourish again, which I'm very grateful of. I'm tired of seeing corpses.

The woods are very welcoming today, mockingjays pass melodies—back and forth, back and forth—as we walk. I whistle the tune Rue taught me in our first Games. The memory of her in my dream, months ago, jumping from branch to branch, makes my heart swell. The birds whistle it back, and as the mockingjays continue to pass it around, the simple tune becomes something more complex. It's beautiful. I thank Rue for teaching it to me, and I promise her I won't forget.

As we reach the hollow tree trunk where I keep my bow and arrows, we spot a lynx. Gale smiles at it, then says, "Smelled some Catnip, huh?"

I roll my eyes at him, but I smile. This feels satisfying.

The lynx pads off, leaving us alone again. I retrieve my dad's, then lend Gale my old set of bow and arrows. He shoots a squirrel as a bit of a practice exercise.

We head for our rendezvous spot up in the mountains, setting up traps and nooses, shooting some game along the way, picking some berries, too. We reach our spot at last, overlooking the range of smaller mountains surrounding Twelve.

"Finally feels like home," Gale whispers. I untie two squirrels from my belt, Gale starts a small fire so we can cook it. We skin them, roast them, and then eat them. It's hard to believe that one whole year has passed since we last did this, and a lifetime ago since we last felt this relaxed. He tells me about his new life, how different things are in Two. It takes time, he says, but you'll get used to it. He also says sometimes he misses the ways in Twelve, how less tense and strict we are here compared to there. I tell him that it suits him more. He laughs at it, and if at one point in my life I thought it was the sweetest sound I could ever hear, I doubt it now. Nothing can surpass Peeta's laugh.

Nothing can ever amount to Peeta.

One reason, too, of why I brought him here is to make sure I don't have anything else but platonic love for him. I was scared, hours ago, that when he said he's come to terms with what I feel for Peeta that I was making a mistake by letting him go. I can't help it, I've made too many mistakes in the past that even though I'm more than certain, I still doubt myself.

We head back before dusk and check the snare line. We manage to take home two squirrels, a turkey and a rabbit each. I drop him off in their assigned house, then I go home.

* * *

In the morning, the bed beside me feels cold to my touch. Peeta must have woken up already. Downstairs, I find him talking to someone outside. The floorboards creak under my weight, giving away my location.

"Oh, she's here," Peeta says. He opens the door fully, and I see Gale dressed in his uniform, a bag on each of his shoulder.

"Just wanted to say goodbye," he smiles. I walk up to him and hug him tight. When I pull back, Peeta's smiling.

"I'll write to you when I get there. We'll keep in touch, alright?"

"Alright." I wave to him as he walks towards town.

* * *

It takes us a while to resume our old routine because of all the previous disruptions—Annie, Finn and my mom, then the Hawthornes, the festival—but eventually, we fall back to it. The next Wednesday, Peeta pushes through with the date we were supposed to have weeks back. This time, we don't bother dressing up. Actually, it's more like a stay-up night. Dressed in our pajamas, we take a blanket outside and start a fire.

"This is nice, isn't it?" he says. He's on his back while my head rests on his shoulder.

I hum my agreement and it's like the world allows us a minute of peace, and it's that kind of peace that washes over every bit of your being you're left feeling connected with the universe. It's calming. I remember my mom and dad used to lie like this as Prim and I play tag in the meadow. Then my dad would whisper something that makes my mom laugh. He kisses her and I would see exactly why she was willing to leave everything behind.

A realization comes to me in the middle of my pondering and it hits me so hard I sit up. Peeta startles underneath me, "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing, I… just—oh my God—I used to think that nobody could ever experience a love my mom and my dad had. I used to think they were the most in love persons on this planet, and I felt… I understood why she traded her perfectly fine past for a very unpredictable future. I realized that I…" Willing myself to say the last words out loud uses up all of my courage, "…love you."

He sits up, too, beside me, then blinks slowly, letting it sink in. "Wow," he sighs exaggeratedly. "Katniss. Everdeen. Just told me. She loves me." He looks at me in awe, chuckles disbelievingly, then leans back on his arms with a dreamy expression on his face.

"You never noticed?" I ask worriedly.

"I did! But it feels a lot different when you hear it, you know? Like when a person finally confirms a doubt you've had for years." I furrow my eyebrows at this. "Really. I mean, don't you feel like that, too? When I say I—that to you?"

"I don't think you've ever said that to me."

"I did, before our first real date?"

"I mean, never when I'm not sulking?"

He smiles at my bait. His hand tucks away a stray lock of hair that covered my eyes. "I love you," he says, pronouncing every syllable clearly.

Unconsciously, I've closed my eyes as he told me he loved me. "Wow."

"Felt that?"

"Yeah," I say, grinning. "I love you," I tell him again. It comes so easily now I can't help but ask myself why I found it hard to get out.

"I could listen to that all day," he says. "But, I'm sleepy."

When I wake up, I feel like the nightmare doesn't stop. Peeta's holding me but I fear he'll vanish—turn to dust when I look at him. "Shh, I'm here. I'm here."

"S-s-stay with m-me," I croak out.

"Always," he says. "I'll always stay with you."

We sit there in the middle of our bed, Peeta rocking me gently as I let my tears flow. I don't dare wipe them because the feeling of it on my hands only brings out more tears from me.

When I've found myself again, Peeta guides me downstairs as we start our day two hours later than usual. He's just walking to get some water when he stops, his whole body tensing from the flashback starting to build up in his mind.

I rush to his side automatically, taking his hands, squeezing them hard to bring him back. "Peeta, it's me. It's Katniss."

"Katniss," he spits out. "I'll _kill_ you."

His eyes open and they're not _his_. They're menacing and hateful. His lips curl into a snarl and before I can put some safe distance between us, he grabs me by the wrists and twists them. I cry out in pain.

He stills, his head tilting to the side as he works out what is happening. He closes his eyes shut again, wrinkling his forehead. "Katniss."

When he opens his eyes again, they're filled with sadness. The second Peeta lays his eyes on the bruises on my wrists, he couldn't find his voice to speak. For minutes he just stares at the clotting blood underneath my skin. Then, very slowly, he kisses them, looks straight into my eyes, then leaves.

I find him in his bedroom—back in his old house—minutes later, with his hands in his hair as he cries his heart out.

"Peeta?"

He doesn't look up.

I sit beside him and lean my head on his shoulder. He still feels tense. I kiss the spot right across my mouth. I work my way up his jaw but he turns away.

"We can't continue this, Katniss."

"Yes, we can."

"No, look at what I did to you!" he screams at me.

Peeta looks so broken at this moment, so vulnerable, so weak, so him. I'm not saying he's vulnerable and weak, but he's such a gentle being—so, so gentle that what the Capitol did to him is unforgivable.

"You should have just gone with Gale."

_Peeta, don't say that._ "No. I'm here and I'm staying with you."

"No, Katniss. You don't understand! We've—we've been together for almost a year but still, look at your wrists! Look at what I did to you! No amount of time I spend with you would ever, ever undo what they did to me. What if I hurt you again? What if I _kill_ you, Katniss? I won't be able to live with myself!" He's standing now. "I couldn't do that. I just _couldn't._ _I can't risk_ _losing you._"

"But if you leave, I'll lose _you_, Peeta!"

"If I stay—if we stay like this—there's a high chance of me doing harm to you—"

"I can handle that, Peeta! You know I can."

"What if one day you can't?! What if I get lost in my head so much you can't reach me? _What if,_ Katniss?!"

"I don't care!" I scream. "I don't care about that! I need you. I can't go on with my life without you. You're everything I have now. Leave and I'll be nothing."

His eyes twinkle for a moment, but it disappears quickly. "I can't risk it. Not with your life at stake."

"You don't understand, Peeta! I'm no good without you! I won't live, I'll just exist. I'll die without you… Please, stay." I'm _begging him._ I'm begging him to stay, throwing away my pride, letting him see right through me. To let him see that I really am just a waste of space without him. He sees that, but a stronger image of me blurs what I want him to see.

"I'm sorry," he says, shaking his head. He looks at me one last time, "I'm so sorry. I love you _too much._"


	11. Chapter Eleven

**A/N: Okay, so I found some extra time to write. Here's an update for you guys. Hope it's better than the previous one.**

* * *

After that day, I decide to spend the rest of my cursed life curled up in my blanket, trying to recreate the heat only he could bring, but failing every day. I don't eat. I don't move. Sae must think I'm dead. Everybody must think I'm dead. And that's good. Because in a way, I am.

I don't sleep either. When I do, they come. They're harder to deal with now. Now that he's gone. No one's there to tell me things are okay, because they aren't. What kept me sane during those nights was him. Only him.

My stomach rumbles from hunger, but I don't care. Death is a very welcome guest.

In fact, I'm just waiting for it.

* * *

Numbness has taken over my whole body, and though I wished for the pain to not be felt, I realize that feeling is better than not. At least when you feel—when you hurt, love, laugh, cry, shout—you feel alive.

The last time I felt alive was a week ago.

Sae finds me on a Wednesday, still on my bed drowning in my own misery, throat aching from the screams I let out before I woke. She forces me to eat some bread—_bread for Christ's sake_. When I refuse, she understands what has happened, giving me a hug as a form of consolation. She leaves me to attend to her granddaughter, Mia.

They come over every day, and it marks the beginning of a new routine, one that doesn't involve him. It's funny how I've divided my life into moments spent with and without him.

As we're eating our breakfast, it dawns on me that I became exactly like my mother—the version of her that I despised. This train of thought inevitably leads to _him._ For once, anger does not bubble up in me. Maybe I've accepted it, that we were, at some point, made for one another, but as life goes by, things change. Even those things you didn't want to.

I have accepted that.

* * *

All of the progress I've made on forgetting him vanishes when I see him walking towards his house, looking perfectly fine without me. He doesn't see me staring at him from my living room window. Resentment flows through every vein in me, and it terrifies me. Because for there to be so much hate, there should have been so much love first.

Today is another bad day.

A day without him.

* * *

I hate how weak he makes me. I hate how dependent I am on him. I hate how he made me feel so important, how he treated me like I'm the only person who matters in this world. I hate how he believed that so much he thought it's better for us to separate. I hate how even after he's played with my feelings, reached into my heart, tore it out and stepped on it—all of those because he loves me too much—I still love him.

* * *

A phone call with my mom didn't help. At all. It started off casually, asking about life and such, and stayed casual until she asked about him. I confide in her, having no one really left to turn to.

"We… separated, Mom."

"What? Why? When did this happen, dear?"

"He had a flashback and he hurt me a little, when he saw what he's done he got scared of what he might do in the future. He said it's better if he stayed away from me. I tried to convince him otherwise, but no luck."

"When was this?"

"Two months ago, I think. I lost count," I lie. It's exactly two months and four days since.

"Are you okay with this?"

"At first, I wasn't. But I'm moving on, Mom. I'm trying."

"I… don't think that's what's best for the both of you."

"You should tell that to him, not me." I jokingly reply.

"You know what, I should,' she says, then the line goes blank.

_What?_

I don't understand what it meant then it hits me. My eyes widen in fear. _Holy shit_. Without thinking it through, I dash out the front door and head straight for his house. The door's open so I let myself in, almost falling head first to the floor. "Peeta, whatever happens, do not answer your phone!" I yell. I whip my head around to see where he is, and turns out, he's right in front of me. And he's already holding the phone.

The atmosphere suddenly turns tense. We're standing so close to each other (compared to the previous months), yet he feels so far. He has his eyes on me, his jaw slack from what emotion, I don't know.

"Y-yeah, it's her," he says to the phone. I hear a muffled reply from the speaker. "Yes, I will. T-thank you, Mrs. Everdeen."

_Do you know that feeling when you see something and then your emotions hit you all at once, confusing you, because they're so contradicting? You're delighted to see that person, but you're also angered at what they've done. Because they abandoned you and you hate yourself for even feeling happy when you see them again. And it's like you just want to run away and wallow in your tears but you don't want to let that moment with them to pass so you're just glued to your spot. Not moving. Just breathing and taking the sight of them in. You're so intoxicated by their presence you forget how to move your limbs. You forget how to listen, to speak. You just feel._

His mouth moves as he whispers something but in all the frenzy my brain is currently in, I don't hear it. He repeats it, and I think it's my name. He says it again, and I wonder when it ever sounded so beautiful.

"Yeah?"

"Um, d-do you want some uh, tea, maybe?"

What am I doing in here? And why is he offering me tea?

"Uh, no thanks," I decline. "I still need to fix up some stuff."

"I… made cheese buns."

"That's very tempting, but I really have to go." _I really have to go before I embarrass myself by doing something crazy like hug you or tell you how much I miss you or kiss you._

"Oh, okay. See you around then."

I go back to my house, nothing that has happened in the past ten minutes of my life making sense.

* * *

We do see each other around since I start going out again. I hunt. He bakes. Haymitch still drinks. Every day I wake up with a loaf of bread sitting on my kitchen counter. _Okay, so you leave me hanging then you're going to act like we're friends again?_

I try not to be mad at him.

In return, I leave some of my haul on his doorstep, usually with a couple of leaves from the woods or an apple or acorn so he has something to paint. I know he started painting again because I once saw him walking through town with a smear of orange paint on the back of his forearm.

Months pass, and it's like we're rebuilding whatever we had again. This infuriates me because we were doing so well, our life was so normal. Until life decides to remind us that no, we aren't destined to be normal.

Sometimes I wish we were never reaped for the Games. There is a very high possibility of Peeta never getting hijacked. But I'm also troubled of this scenario—of not being tributes—because I don't know if he would still have chosen me.

_No, that isn't the problem, idiot._

The problem is I don't know if I would have loved him. When Gale asked, I told him that if it weren't for Peeta, I would never have been open to the idea of loving someone. I saw it solely as a weakness, an added part of you that the Capitol can use against yourself.

When I was with Peeta, I realized that though it is a weakness, it's worth it. Love is worth it. Seeing him at the end of each day, coming home to the feeling of his arms wrapped around me, his lips to make me feel that there is at least one person in the world who sees me as his _world_…_ it's so worth it._

So when Peeta starts leaving notes on my counter, saying things like '_This is a new recipe.'_ Or _'Nuts and raisins,'_ I do the same.

I'm going to risk it again. Nobody ever told us we can only try twice.

During the course of our note-leaving, he starts to ask questions. I answer them, and our simple notes turn into longer ones, until we have an ongoing conversation between the two of us.

* * *

_'Hope you still like these.'_

'Still do. My taste hasn't changed much, you know.'

'_I think that's a great thing for me. Do you have other favorites? Just in case we get to a point you grow out of your love for cheese buns.'_

'I do enjoy some blueberry muffins.'

_'I don't have fresh blueberries, maybe something else? I'll keep that in mind though.'_

The next day I pick enough blueberries to last him a month. I leave the pail on his doorstep beside two squirrels. 'Now, you do. Something else, huh? I don't know, maybe some of those crescent shaped rolls that I like?'

His note arrives with a basketful of muffins and the rolls I requested._ 'I put some chocolate inside, you like them, right?'_

'The half of the basket is gone. I'm starting to think I have more than enough appetite for bread. I saw a doe today, she looked so at peace.'

_'We were made to be neighbors. Well, I burnt myself yesterday. Hahaha. Even with practice, accidents still happen.'_

'We weren't made to be fucking neighbors, Peeta. You're supposed to be living under the same roof with me!'

'I left some ointment here, and some cream to help with the scar. I still have much.'

_'I ran out already. How in the world do you still have much? Are you applying them regularly like we're supposed to?'_

I don't write a note in reply.

_'I think the wind blew your note away before I got it inside. Anyway, any request for tomorrow?'_

'I miss cinnamon. I watched the sunset on my way back again today. It was lovely.'

_'Cimnamon, it is. That's great. I miss the woods, unfortunately, I'm not brave enough to venture on my own.'_ This note comes with a loaf of cinnamon bread.

'Do you wanna go? I can take you next Wednesday.'

I realize what I just said, minutes later after I dropped the game. I go to check if it's still there, maybe I can take it back and write a new one. Peeking out my window, hoping he hasn't got it yet, I see that today, I'm in luck. But before I can move from my spot from the small window in my kitchen, I watch as he emerges from his house, reads the note, and smiles.

* * *

We still leave notes after that, each day closer to Wednesday. Tuesday morning his note says, 'Are we pushing through with the trip? I'm okay with not going if you've changed your mind.'

I tell him yes, my decision mainly influenced by the fact that I don't want to let him down again. Besides, he looked happy when I offered.

Also partly because I miss him.

* * *

Tuesday evening I ask my mom if she ever got into a fight with dad, before they were married and even when they already were. Fights and misunderstandings are normal, she said. But that's not what matters. What's important is how the both of you work together to get through that argument. It shouldn't come between the two of you, especially if you feel and know that the other person is the best thing that has happened to you. You don't give up on the people you love, even when they do. You have to fight for it, to keep whatever you have alive, because once it dies, a part of you is going to die with it. It's unavoidable. In my case, I have very little left to let die.

I tell her about our trip tomorrow, and she makes me promise I won't chicken out. I think my mom fully supports the idea of me being with him. She says it's because she can't be here with me, to take care of me, and Peeta's the only person she trusts and is certain can look after me. And the only person who loves me with his whole self.

I don't doubt her.

* * *

The sun shines, and with this day comes a nightmare. My eyes are puffy from crying, leaving me no choice but to face him looking like a mess. I find that he has already left me a note downstairs. It says, 'Just ring me up if you change your mind. Otherwise knock on my door if we're good to go. Thanks. :)'

I shower and dress with today in mind. I pack a small bag with a blanket and some bottles of water. Braiding my hair, I talk myself through going on with this trip. I must look crazy doing this. Doesn't matter, I've been branded mentally unstable before and had a tag to show for it.

Taking a deep breath, I walk slowly out of my house and cross the road, my feet taking me to his doorstep. At the last minute, my head screams at me to run back, to leave him a note here to cancel the trip.I don't listen to it. Willing myself to find my confidence again, I knock on the door—once, twice—and prepare myself for the seemingly long and tense day ahead.

* * *

**A/N: I know it's inconsistent, it's supposed to be like that. I'll explain stuff the next time I update, don't worry.**


	12. Chapter Twelve

**A/N: I have exams tomorrow but since you all are so lovely, here's another chapter! Thanks for the support! It makes me so happy every time I get an email saying someone added this story to his/her favorites, or left a review, or better, added me to his/her followed authors! Thank you so much.**

* * *

It takes Peeta approximately six seconds to answer the door and greet me. _I often become hyperaware of everything when I'm nervous._ He's wearing a plain white shirt that is just a bit too tight it makes it hard for me to ignore his chest. I see that he's holding a basket. I raise my eyebrows in question and he explains that if we're going to watch the sunset, we'll need food considering it's only past noon.

I walk in front of him instead of taking my usual spot beside him. Today is not really a _usual _day. He doesn't call me out on it. Peeta doesn't try to make small talk, and I don't mind that because I seem to have lost the ability to form complete sentences. In short, our trip is considerably silent, save for the sound of our footfalls. Well, _his _footfalls.

We reach the edge of the woods with the sun still high up in the sky, directly above us. The calmness the woods bring me is surprisingly enough to balance out the tension between the two of us.

In the middle of our hike, the sun descends a little and is now halfway behind our backs, our bodies casting long shadows on the ground before us. I watch as they move, as his shadow moves, and for a short moment I let myself believe that this is just another one of our trips to the lake. Peeta's shadow disappears and I hear a rather loud thud coming from behind me. When I whip around, he has his eyes closed in exasperation. "Sorry, been too long since I last had practice on uneven ground."

"Not my fault," I mutter under my breath. After that fall, the rest of our hike is silent. We reach the lake with—judging from the distance of the sun from the horizon—two hours left of sunlight. He spreads the blanket and lays down our bags on the side. I decide that we still have long enough for me to take a nap. He agrees to take watch, just in case something happens.

Settling down, I lie on my side with my back at him. I can't bring myself to look at him directly yet. Since morning, I've only been watching him through his shadow and the sounds he makes. Something tells me he's has been watching me, too.

* * *

I don't realize the mistake I made until I'm screaming myself awake from the nap I braved to take. I can still see images from my nightmare—_Peeta being dragged away from me, me running for eternity but never reaching him. He's bleeding from a wound on his chest_, _then he drops to the ground, and finally I'm inching closer and closer to him. When I get to him… it's too late. He's cold to my touch, his skin pale from the lost blood._

"Katniss! Hey, wake up!"

I jolt awake, panting. Taking a look at my surroundings, I finally place where I am and why I'm—_we're_—here.

"You okay?" he asks. I don't dare answer, fearing my voice would crack and give away exactly how I'm feeling. I turn away from him and hug my knees to my chest. _Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry._

I still do.

It's not like those times where my whole body's shaking, or I'm hiccupping from crying. _No, _today, in this moment, only tears come out. I feel a hand settle on my back, and _him_ sit beside me. We're as close as we can be without too much contact. My mind still swimming in grief from the bad dream, I risk a glance at him to assure myself whatever I saw was not real. He's safe. He's sitting beside me.

Peeta must have seen something in my face because he pulls me against his chest to hold me. My heart tells me to allow him, since it's what I wanted, right? I wanted him to wedge himself into my sorry excuse of a life again.

My mind betrays me.

Before I can stop myself, I'm already screaming. "What the hell do you really want, Peeta?! I thought you wanted me to stay away from you because you loved me too much! I thought we were avoiding each other! Then after that incident in your house you start dropping bread off on my counter with fucking notes like we're children in preschool! What the fuck do you really want?! I'm so done with being played, Peeta. I'm so tired. I can't go on letting people step on my emotions because they think I'm some sort of unfeeling rabid creature who only knows how to kill. Especially you! You made me feel like I'm a human, like I'm whole again, then you leave me hanging. Didn't it ever cross your mind how much that hurt me? Did you think that losing you didn't have an effect on my life? Then what, when you realize that you can't live without me, you take me back? What are you implying then, that it's only you who can decide?! Tell you what, I'm done with you! I'm leaving. Go find someone else. Go! Leave me alone. You don't deserve to be in this place with me!"

I stand to run from him but he grabs me before I can get away. I pound on his shoulders, but with every second that passes, they turn weaker and weaker. The feeling of his arms is too hard to resist.

"Katniss, I know I don't deserve this but please forgive me. I was stupid. You were right, I'm no good without you either. You're a part of me now, and I can't live without you. And I'm sorry again for leaving you. I'm sorry for not believing you. I'm sorry, Katniss. I guess I don't love you enough to let you go."

"Damn you!" I shout. I shove him backwards and pound my fists on his chest over and over. He lets me hurt him. He's not even fighting back. I taste blood and I realize I'm biting my lips. "Damn you, Peeta!" Punching him one last time, I yell that. "Damn you! Why is it so hard to not stay mad at you? I hate myself. I hate myself for forgiving you! I hate myself for loving you so much I'm willing to take you back even after you broke my heart. I hate you… but I love you. "

The moment those last words come out of my mouth, his face relaxes. Then he hugs me, hard. "Thank you," he whispers against my neck. I'm in midair, held there by his arms like I weigh nothing but paper. He puts me down, a smile on his face as tears stain his flushed cheeks. He wipes them off, regaining his composure. Something flickers in his eyes, then he looks up, taking the soft orange of the sunset painted above us. It's obvious now that it's truly his favorite color. You can see it in the way his face softens when he sees it.

Slowly, he looks back at me, a small smile on his lips. "Thank you," he says. "For loving me."

* * *

The following days Peeta only comes over during the day, like our first routine. We do things together, we avoid skin contact, still too busy acting guilty from the mistakes we both committed. Him for leaving me, me for letting him leave. On the fourth day, I act on impulse and press my lips against his, not caring about what he thinks. I've missed him. I have him back. What else am I supposed to do?

I'm expecting him to push me away but he doesn't. He kisses me back, just as hard. This kiss is not chaste in every way. I'm not disappointed.

We come close to doing _it _on that night. All the time spent apart took its toll on us. Luckily, we were able to stop ourselves. I have no idea how we ended up in my room. "This is so weird, a week ago we weren't even seeing each other. Now we're on your bed, I'm on top of you." He chuckles. "And I, ah, I think I should marry you first before we… you know."

"Maybe you should ask me to marry you so we can move forward."

"Maybe," he replies right away. His face stills, "_Wai_t, are you suggesting I _propose_ to you?"

_Shit. But what, we're together. We have been for almost two years. We won't ever be apart again, practically husband and wife in our setup. We should at least make it official, right?_

"Weren't you planning to?" I ask him instead of answering directly.

"I… am. Actually I have been, I've contacted Effie and other people from the districts about it. I'm just waiting for the right time."

"When's going to be the right time for you? When we're old and graying and decaying?"

"Um, no… I—well, we just got over a fight. I thought we should grow back together first."

"If that's what you want, I guess," I whisper, my voice soft from irrational disappointment.

"Hey," he nudges me with his nose. I'm reminded of our position, him between my legs. Surprisingly, it doesn't make me uncomfortable. "But if I ask, what will be your answer?"

I can sense nervousness in his voice so I tease him instead, "It's a surprise."

"Oh, come on!" He wails.

"You told me you want to grow back together first. Stick to what you said, Peeta!" He pouts at this, and I feel light. I feel so light again, no gray cloud above me, blocking out the happiness each day should bring. I bop him on the nose and he wrinkles it to my touch. "You look cute when you do that."

He does it again, "Do what?"

"That," I tell him, touching his nose again.

"Do what? I'm not doing anything," he says. He sounds believable but he's smiling. I do not trust a smiling Peeta Mellark.

"This," I say, imitating him. He breathes out a laugh and places his face close to mine.

"Did you know your mom—after that thing in my house with her on the phone and stuff—she started calling me every day to make sure I'm still going to win you back?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, she was the one who came up with the notes thing. I didn't know how I'm going to start. I asked her, and she suggested that. You could say it was effective."

"I think it wouldn't have worked if I was so mad at you. I only wrote back because I was determined to win you back, too."

_Peeta's cheeks turn pink, and he gulps._

"Oh my God, did I just make you flush?"

"Not my fault I'm so love sick about you!"

After months, we laugh again. Once it's subsided, we're just smiling at one another, our faces only inches away from contact. I brush some of his curls back from his forehead. "Have you forgiven me?" he asks, worry tinting his voice.

I pull him down and kiss him. "I have. Now that I know how it's like to be without you, I'm sure I always will."

He gives me one of his shy smiles again, and we fall into a comfortable silence. He flips onto his back and I automatically move to place my head on his chest, on top of the steady beating of his heart.

This heart had stopped thrice if I'm not mistaken, twice after our first Games, on that hovercraft as the doctors worked to save his life. Once when he hit the force field in the Quell. All of those because of me. Unwanted thoughts of him dying squeeze themselves into my mind, overwhelming me.

"Peeta?" I ask frantically.

"Hm?"

"Don't ever leave me," I say. It comes out like a command than of a request.

"No, never again," he replies.

"Promise you'll always stay with me, no matter what? Even if you hurt me again, or if I get mad at you? Or if we get into another fight or I push you away? You'll stay with me? "

"Always," he assures me. "I'll _always _stay with you."

This time, it feels final. It feels real. The promise is real.

* * *

**A/N: I'm thinking about ending this story here. It fits the title, right? What do you guys think? Few more chapters? An epilogue?**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT! It makes my heart swell in happiness when you guys tell me you love the story or you look forward to reading more chapters. So I'm going to listen to you guys and go on for a bit. Again, thank you!**

* * *

As promised, we do grow back together. This time, though, I'm not scared. Not like our first try when we were cautious on everything, not wanting to upset the other for fear of being left behind. This time around, we don't care. Both Peeta and I know nobody else is going to be for us but each other. It's only tonight that I realize that although I lost so many people, I was given a person who is worth more than all of them combined. Maybe I'm being biased but whenever I compare him to them, I know he's worth it.

As morbid this may sound, but I'm grateful for what happened to Prim. I'm grateful she was reaped, I volunteered, I acted in love to survive, and I fell in love, led a rebellion, and lost her. I'm so grateful because if she weren't reaped, she would have had to grow in a world that will be too cruel for her gentle soul. If I didn't volunteer, the rebellion might never have been given a spark. I'm happy she's in a safer place now, even when she's not with me.

Acceptance works wonders when it comes to a person's mindset. Once you're content with what you have, you'll stop searching and you'll start _enjoying. _You're happy with what you have, why look for something better when you have the best?

Lounging around is now a part of our daily routine, be it morning, afternoon or evening. We figured we don't actually need to work since we're still receiving our pension of some sort from surviving the Games. It's an upside of loving someone—you can be happy by just being with them. Not much effort needed.

Today we lay on the grass on our back porch. Clouds are thick today, though the air is humid. Peeta's rubbing circles on my hand as we're splayed across the lawn.

"I forget we've killed people," he says. "On days like this, I feel like I'm just another teenager with a beautiful and loving woman who has promised to stay by my side for the rest of my life."

"How do you know I won't leave you?" I tease, turning my head to him.. "You haven't asked _the _question yet. I might run off with Chris. He's hot."

"I forget that you don't know much about him, too." He laughs softly. "He's gay."

"What? Really?" I almost sit up in shock. I should have seen it coming, he was _too caring _of his body.

"Yeah, he's with Josiah. I saw them just two weeks ago, they were doing couply things at the back of the bakery. I didn't disturb them of course, that would have been rude."

"That sucks, they're both hot. I guess I'm stuck with you, then." I huff exaggeratedly. "But I'm happy for them."

"Actually, Katniss," he starts. "Are you free next week? Tuesday?"

"I'm always free, Peeta. I don't have a job."

"So you are?" He asks excitedly. He reminds me of a puppy when he's excited. He's just so jumpy and smile-y and giggly. I don't know. Probably that blond head completes the look, too.

"Yep," I say."Why? Something in mind?"

"Yeah," he smiles. "Wanna go get something? I'm hungry."

My stomach rumbles in response.

* * *

Hours later, I ask him out for a walk around town to visit the shops, to say hello to some familiar faces. We visit Sae, who treats us a bowl of stew. We still pay her, Peeta insisted. We get some stuff from the small market near the old mines, a bar of soap and some rags. We head to the sweet shop afterwards, Peeta buying me a pack of chocolate covered raisins. We skip entering the clothes shop since we have enough clothes from the interviews and the Victory Tour to last us a lifetime, though we pick up a new blanket for our bedroom. We pay a visit to the rebuilding of the district hospital—actually, just _building,_ considering we didn't have a hospital before. The townspeople agreed on having one instead of apothecaries and healers.

We visit the bakery last, just before closing time. There are only four people inside, excluding us. Josiah and Chris being the two, the other two a mother and her child. The little boy turns his head when he hears the bell above the door clink. "Oh, hey Mr. M!" he shouts.

"Hello, Jacob. Mrs. Adams," Peeta nods at the woman. I don't recognize her, someone from another district probably. Peeta takes a cookie from the rack and hands it to the boy, Jacob. Jacob takes a look at me, then says, "Who is she? Is she your girlfriend?"

"I—we, um, yeah. Her name's Katniss." Peeta stutters. I don't blame him, I don't really call him my boyfriend.

"You hesitated," Jacob says. Mrs. Adams chastises him but I tell her it's okay. She leaves the kid with us to pay at the counter. Peeta looks at me warily. I have my eyebrows raised but I'm smiling.

"It's just complicated, Jacob," Peeta says to the tiny blob of pale skin topped with a mop of light brown curls.

"You guys are weird," he says. "We don't see you together for months then the other day I saw you kissing."

My jaw falls to the floor. I feel my cheeks go red.

"That's—that's wha—"

"Things change, Jacob," I interject. "People always change. Someday you'll understand."

Mrs. Adams comes back from the counter and takes Jacob by the hand, thanking us for keeping watch over him. We say goodbye to them. Before they get out of the door, Jacob turns and says again, "You guys are _so_ weird."

We close up the bakery, making the usual process faster. Chris and Josiah aren't touchy and I sense their discomfort. "It's okay, I know," I tell them, giving them a knowing smile.

Love is weird, but it's wonderful.

We walk back home together, hand in hand. The shops we visited are closing up, too. They wave at us, so we wave back. "Jacob's cute, don't you think?" he asks me.

"Yeah, he's adorable." Looking over at Peeta, I see a smile on his face and a strange glint in his eyes. In an instant, I know where this might lead. My heart starts pounding from nervousness, he might ask of me things I don't want to give him. I hate it. I hate feeling inadequate.

He doesn't say anything else though.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Peeta must want kids, I saw it in his eyes. He'll want little Peeta's and Katniss's and amalgamations of us running around the house. He'll be the perfect father, kind, loving, gentle, patient, and funny, and other things. Being a mother has never ever crossed my mind.

I gnaw on my lip in uncertainty. I want him to be happy, I want _us _to be happy. But if I can't give him what he wants, maybe I can let him go?

"Peeta…"

He looks at me and waits for me to continue.

"Look, if… if I can't be—if I can't give you what you want, I think I can let you go. Go find someone else, mayb—"

"Oh, no, Katniss, I'm not leaving you for anyone. It's just you. If I can't have them with you, it's fine. At least I have you. I'm happy."

I decide to ignore him using the term _them _instead of _it._

* * *

Gale's reply to my letter comes the next week, before Tuesday—the day of Peeta's big surprise. Or so it seems.

We've written to each other for a couple of times ever since he went back to District Two. I didn't tell him about my fight with Peeta, putting some light on the possibility of him traveling here again to beat Peeta up, just as he promised in the past.. Peeta and I read it during our rest time, our mugs in our hands. Gale's letter just tells us they'd be receiving some new refugees from the more damaged districts. This week they're busy preparing the bunkers. He asks about me, and about Peeta, too. He sends his regards.

Annie has written back, too. A picture of Finn playing with Chuck is enclosed. He's nearly a kid, now. She tells us that my mom has been promoted finally, and they threw a small party last week. She says that he forgets about his husband at times. She forgets he's gone forever. Some days she just sits on their porch and stares at the see, wondering when he'll come back. On those days, Finn takes care of her, she says. Even at a young age, he knows comfort. My mom has taught him well, Annie says.

I don't write responses right away, considering there isn't much to tell them yet. Maybe tomorrow there will be. Suddenly I'm filled with excitement. I bring tomorrow up at dinner and he just tells me it's a surprise. We continue working on the half-filled memory book, a page for Wiress, before heading up to sleep.

* * *

I said yes.

Of course I'm going to say yes.

It wasn't something I expected. I thought he'd bring me to the woods, or to the bakery, probably bake me a cake, or paint me a picture.

_It wasn't any of that though, it was even better._

Instead, we took a train—a private train—and it took us to a small strip of beach minutes away from the station. There, a table's set up in the middle of a dock extending a short distance to the sea. We had dinner with the moon and the stars illuminating the dark sky above us. After eating, we walked down the sand without our shoes. I think it's my first time to feel them in between my toes. Then, he took my hand, went down on his good knee, and asked.

We almost lose the ring to the sea.

As an answer, me acting solely on impulse, I kissed him, and because of the situation we were in, it wasn't very chaste. I'm not going to spill all the details but I can tell you one thing, Peeta Mellark knows how to kiss.

We almost do _it—again—_on that dock. Peeta pulled away though, but with good reason. "The ring," he said. "I haven't put it on you."

"Oh," I breathe. More like _pant_ actually. "Where is it?"

"I… I don't know. You literally pushed me down!"

"I did not!" I exclaimed defensively.

"Look at us!" he joked, gesturing to our tangled limbs. I was _straddling_ him… oh my God. He had his hands placed behind him to support both of our weights. I pulled him up and together we tried to look for the ring. _My ring._

We find it on the edge of the dock, still in its velvet box. Peeta slipped the silver band on my finger, and I felt like flying. I knew we were going to marry one another at some point, I even suggested doing it for the cameras, but I can't help it. I feel like a lovesick school girl. The only difference is that I'm not imagining this. I'm really am going to marry this man in front of me.

The ring he gave me is so simple but it's so… beautiful. It's too beautiful to describe. A medium-sized gem sits in the middle of the band. The ring is made to look like tree branches woven together. I can't stop looking at it and fiddling with it on the train back home.

"Like it?" Peeta asks, noticing my actions. My eyes land on his right hand and I see that he's worn his, too. I take his hand and look at his ring, one like mine but the gems are inlaid between the interlocking branches, giving it a more masculine look.

"They're perfect, Peeta."

"You're perfect," he whispers.

It's funny how there was a point in my life when I would have attacked anybody who dared say that to me. I was so closed off, restricted from other people. I had no crushes, not even on Gale, when he was branded the hottest guy in our school. They say that it's because of his mysterious façade.

All it took was three years. And probably, two Hunger Games, a rebellion, and this man beside me, the only person who was able to destroy the walls I've built around myself. My fiancé…

_God, he's my fiancé._

This makes me gulp. I really need to stop being so surprised at everything new in my life. I need to keep reminding myself that the world we're living in and the lives we're actually living are not the way they used to before. We've progressed, and with this change in our lives, new things are definitely going to come our way.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you guys again so much!**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N: I liked writing the last part of this chapter. The next one might take a while because I haven't started on it yet. I'll try to make it worth the wait. Thanks for supporting this story!**

* * *

Everybody seems to be just as happy with our engagement as we are. Even Gale. My mom is thrilled, and we thank her for helping us. Effie tells us she was expecting it, but she's just as happy. I make sure to stress that it won't be televised, it's going to be just us. We're tired of cameras. It's a great thing she agreed to that, but not without asking us if she can announce it to the Capitol, to satisfy their nosy selves.

My prep team shriek in excitement when we tell them over the phone.. Cressida's there too, with them, because they're working on a propo for the new government. They're happy for us, they say.

Annie promised to send us something as an advanced gift. Johanna, whom we haven't contacted much for the past year, told us she'd be happy to attend the wedding. When they asked for the date, we told them we're not sure yet.

We tell Haymitch last, given that he lives only three houses away from us. When we arrive, he's plunked face down on his kitchen table, a bottle in one of his hands and a knife in the other. Peeta stops me from dumping down a pitcher of water on him and tells me it is better not to. He takes the news… well, okay, I think. He was expecting it, too, especially now that we're together again. Before we leave, he hugs us both. At the last second, I ask him if he could walk me down the aisle. He says yes, and I think I saw tears in his eyes. It could be a trick of light though.

Not much has changed, except that when I'm just idling around, my attention is on the ring. Peeta catches me looking at it on more than one occasion, then says. "You look at the ring more than me now."

"It's still you," I say. "If you were a ring, this would be you."

He sits beside me on the couch, then kisses the side of my head. "I love you," he whispers.

I whisper the same words back to him.

* * *

One day, while we're on the floor of the living room, Peeta's painting Cinna, he stops suddenly then says, "Spring sounds good."

"Good… what?"

"It's a good time for our—"

"Oh, _that." _I think it over, deciding if it really is a great time for our wedding. "Yeah, it would be great."

"Spring starts soon."

"Do you really think it's a great time or do you just want to do it soon?"

"A bit of both," he admits sheepishly.

"If you want spring, then we should start preparing."

We call Effie, since it's her thing—parties and events like this—we get a bit confused when she says she'll be over soon. We only get what she meant when she shows up on our doorstep the morning after, with only a small pink handbag for her things.

"What are you doing here?" Peeta and I ask in chorus, still in our rather wrinkled nightclothes. I immediately try to straighten the shirt Peeta lent me to use. I was too lazy to get a shirt of my own.

"Well, I need to look at you! And it's been so long, my dears. Didn't you at least miss me?"

We hug her, sincerely, because we did. I'm thankful she doesn't make a comment on our attire. "Now, let's have a look around. Where are you planning to have it? In here? Wait, is it going to be just the simple toasting or the Capitol type of wedding? Oh, please let it be like ours!"

We tell her both, since we feel like we owe her for being such a great escort and friend to us both. The toasting will be private, though, and by private, we mean just the two of us and some close friends and family. She raises her eyebrows at that, "You're included, Effie. Don't worry."

"Thank goodness, I thought I wasn't! Okay, the backyard's pretty spacious. Nice lawn, too. What do you think?"

I have no idea what she's talking about and it must show on my face because she says, "The location, dear."

"Oh, yes. Yes, whatever you deem fine."

"Are you letting _me _plan _this?"_

"Yep, that's what you wanted, right?" Peeta says.

She almost cries, right there in front of us, but stops herself because she's wearing make-up. It's actually lighter now compared to when she was drawing out our names from gigantic glass bowls of paper. Maybe the time she spent in Thirteen had some lasting effect on her.

"What about the dress, honey? Do you have any ideas?"

And that is how it started. We both agreed on not getting another designer for the dress as a tribute to Cinna. I'll be wearing a white gown instead of just a decent dress, though the gown would be less extravagant than what I wore for the interviews before the Quell. Peeta would wear one of his old but not worn tuxedos. We pick a white one instead of black. The food would be the specialties from Twelve which mainly involve game cooked in different ways. Peeta would be making our cake, as weird as that sounds. Effie would take care of the other things. We trust her not to overwork herself, though I slightly doubt it. This is _the _Effie Trinket we're talking about, the patroness of all event organizers.

She spends the night with us, but leaves the next morning. She visits Haymitch first before she goes off to the train station. We offered to accompany her but she insisted on going alone. She says she wants us to have some time to ourselves. She promises to send our prep team here when it's time.

I've forgotten how tiring it is to have visitors. We were so used to living alone for so long. But we're happy.

* * *

He gets another flashback after a week. Clutching the kitchen counter, I hold him as he fights his episode off. He feels so tense, I can sense him straining to stay sane. "Shh, it's not real, Peeta. I'm here. I'm here with you. Where are you?" My voice cracks at I ask, the image of him in his cell haunting me.

"Come back, Peeta… I need you."

"Katniss…?"

"I'm here. I love you," I say softly against his back. He releases his grip on the counter, releasing the breath he was holding. He faces me, looking broken as he always does after an episode.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks.

"No, you didn't. You just held on to that until it passed." He looks relieved when I said that, but his forehead stay crinkled. He lifts his hand to brush my cheek with his thumb, then asks, his voice quivering, "You love me, real or not real?"

I stand on my tiptoes and plant a kiss on his lips, struggling to find my voice. "Real."

* * *

After we sent a reply to the letters we received, we get a reply from Gale a week after. The content is a bit surprising, even for Gale's part. He told us he found a girl, a refugee from Seven whom he likes and seems to like him back. They've been spending time together since he found enough courage to talk to her. She's a medic, he says, and helps in assisting the soldiers treat the wounded if there are some. He says she's his calming personality and I guess that's really how it works. For it to work and to last, you have to be polar opposites on at least one matter. Peeta and me and Gale and the girl he found, our personalities are different.

The day after we send a reply to Gale, a package from Annie arrives with a short note. It's her promised advanced gift to us. At first, before opening, I thought it was a painting, which is something that would be less useful to us, especially for Peeta, than getting a blank canvas. Turns out it _is _a blank canvas for Peeta to paint on. _A huge blank canvas. _A few jars of paint is also included. Annie says in her note that we can fill the canvas up with memories, both old and new ones. I think it's a great idea, given that Peeta still has his episodes and I still get nightmares. Maybe when I can't sleep I can just look at the scenes we'll be putting there to calm me down, to remind me that things are okay.

We place it in our spare room because we haven't decided yet what to put. We walk in town again that day and visit the shops to buy a couple of things from them, it's the least that we could do to share whatever we have.

* * *

Effie calls us every now and then, making sure that we're still pushing through with our wedding. She jokes, on more than one occasion, that it's kind of silly how we're younger but have found the person we're happy to share our life with but she still hasn't found hers. We tell her that things take time, and if it's meant to happen it will happen.

After that one time, we almost played matchmaker, narrowing down the men who'll suit her. Haymitch comes over that afternoon and Peeta and I almost burst out laughing at his timing. He shoots us a funny look, then when we asked why he's here, he just said he ran out of liquor, which is pretty funny because he didn't take a single bottle with him when he left.

Days and nights spent with Peeta are so easy and relaxed. We're not even married yet, but I don't think I can love him more than I do now. I don't know, but every day, before I go to sleep, I tick off every reason why I love him. I fall asleep before I even finish. Being with him just feels so great, maybe not all the time. He can be pretty unloving during his episodes. More than once, he hurt me. Nothing worse than tight grips though. I end up with bruises for days after those incidents. But despite all that, even when he's closed off himself from me, I'm still sure I love him. It's weird, because when I got into fights with Gale, we can go on ignoring each other for a long time—so long that I start hating him for it. We need someone to act as a mediator between us for us to forgive each other. Usually it's Prim. But she isn't here anymore, she's with my dad now.

Love is supposed to bring out the best in you, they say. Just two or three years ago, I was totally opposed to that idea. I used to think love brought out the worst in people, my conclusion based on my mother. And that pain brought out the best, because we were in so much pain that I realized I had to work to keep my family alive. I was able to do that for years and I thought that was a good thing. It's only months ago that I realized how wrong I was. It isn't love that brings the worst out, it's pain. It's pain that brings it out—pain brought by love. I got them switched. When we were little, my mom and dad were the best parents I could have hoped for. It's only when we lost dad that I started wishing for another mother.

_That_, _all of that_, only led me to believe that he's for me. He brings out the best in me. Gale was right, I changed, but for the better. I forgave him so quickly, I forgave Peeta so quickly, because of _Peeta. _He taught me that if you love someone, don't let that person slip away from your grasp, because you're never going to be assured that he or she will be coming back around.

Because if you love someone, you don't give up on them, even when they do.

* * *

A month passes, each day closer to _the _day. Each day, too, I get more and more nervous. Not that I'm doubting my love for Peeta, I love him. I'm very sure of that. I'm just scared things might go wrong. On that last night before our wedding, I can feel my heart pounding against my chest. Peeta's holding me against his chest, his breath coming in regular intervals. He must be asleep already, but I can't. Trying to rack my brain of ways on how I'm going to extract myself from him, I shift a little, my dead arm bugging me.

"Still awake?" he asks, surprising me.

"I thought you were asleep already," I turn around to face him, burying my face in his shirt. I take a deep breath, inhaling his scent—a mix of flour and smoke from the baking he did during the day, and _him. _"Why are you awake, though?" I ask.

"I'm nervous… scared, even."

"Scared? Of what?"

"This is going to sound ridiculous but I'm scared that you'll… run away. I mean, there's still that possibility. You might wake up tomorrow and realize that you don't love me like you thought you did."

I sigh, he's never going to be not harsh on himself. I kiss the spot below his neck before answering, "I love you, Peeta. Nothing's going to change that, not you, not anyone, not the world, not the universe, nor the past or the future. I love you, and that's that."

"This is unfair, you're getting good with words but I'm still useless at hunting," he says.

"You make great company. Actually, so great that I'm willing to spend the rest of my life sharing it with you."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Peeta… let's not do this tonight. I love you, okay?" My voice sounds too forceful, _ugh. _I sigh, "What can I do to make you believe that?"

"You really love me? As in _really _love me?"

"Yes, Peeta. Really."

"Sure? This is your last chance to back out." _Why is he so stubborn?_

I groan in frustration then press my lips against his for a kiss before he can ask me the same question one more time.

I feel him smile.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**A/N: This is it, the last full chapter of ****_Always. _****I'm so thankful for everyone who gave this a chance and read it from start to finish. Thank you so much! I'm sorry if it got boring at some points, that's just how it is with some stories, I think. I'll try to fit in the epilogue of some sort the other things you want to read, just tell me! Again, thank you so much for the support.**

* * *

The day comes, and I'm greeted by the sound of Effie shrieking in frustration because we're not up yet. For the damned preparations. She shouts from the living room that if I don't get up in five minutes she's going to kill herself.

I humor her.

My prep team is already downstairs, waiting for me. I see that my mom is there, too. Annie and Finn are playing with Chuck, the infamous rottweiler Johanna's there, too, sitting cross-legged by the fireplace, thumbing through a book. _Funny, who would have thought Johanna Mason read books to pass the time?_

As soon as they see us, Peeta and me, Peeta gets rushed out of our house and into his old one, his prep team muttering things about how it'll bring bad luck if the groom sees his bride before the wedding. From my view here, I can see all the brightly colored flowers decorating our lawn outside. They've been brought in yesterday afternoon.

They start with bathing me and asking me to brush my teeth. Then they tell me that they'll cover up my scars. At the last second I stop them, "Leave them be," I say. Let everybody see them. Let them see how much I've been through, and yet I'm here. I haven't given up.

They speak to each other without really saying something. Years of working with each other must have taught them to communicate like that. Just like Gale and I did.

Gale. I didn't see him before they locked me in this bathroom. Wait, maybe I did. I try to picture the scene in my head. _Yes, _he was there. Only, he was talking to a brown-haired girl I'm not sure I've seen before. The letter he sent me comes to my mind, and things make sense. Maybe that was the girl he was talking about. The medic girl from the other district.I don't realize how long I've been lost in my thoughts until Octavia tells me to close my eyes and lift up my arms for the dress. I feel myself slip into it, and

it feels light. It's not like those gowns that I had to try on for the scripted wedding. They zip up the back and arrange my hair, spreading it over my back and shoulders. They lead me outside, in front of our mirror. I don't see it, but I know they take me there.

"Open your eyes, dear." So I do.

I almost don't recognize the woman standing before me, because she looks so happy, so content with her life. For someone who has lost so much, this girl in the mirror looks too happy. I feel guilty for looking that way, but it dissipates when I hear my mom speak.

"You look beautiful, Katniss. Just like you always were."

"Thank you," I say, instead of being angry at her for calling me that. Because I am beautiful, right now. In the past, I never saw myself as someone who looks nice. I wasn't even a nice person back then. But now, I do. I look beautiful, because of my prep team, and the dress from Cinna and Peeta himself. Anybody can be made up and still look miserable if he or she is not happy. Peeta makes me happy.

It starts almost half an hour after they finish making me up. My mom hugs me before we go out, and we almost cry in each other's arms. We both never imagined we'd get to this point, where Katniss Everdeen, her daughter, would be standing in front of her mother before her wedding to a man she really loves, and loves her back.

She leads me out the house, the short train of the gown trailing behind me. I think the crowd gasps when they see me. Haymitch takes my arm. He cleans up nicely, I can see that he was a handsome man before the Games broke him.

"You're sober," I point out jokingly.

"Sweetheart, would you rather have me walking you down the aisle drunk?"

"I'm kidding, Haymitch. You look nice."

"You should see your husband," he says.

"We're not married yet, but we're about to be."

"If you're going to ask me, you're more married now than most of the already married couples in Panem. I'm pretty sure they envy what you two have."

"Envy? Why would they?"

"What you have is rare," he whispers, his voice sounding solemn. "It's beautiful. Now come on, we don't want to keep your man waiting."

The music starts, played by musicians from Twelve—from home. Together we walk, arm in arm, Haymitch filling in for my father. A mockingjay sings, followed by two, three, four more mockingjays, and I know that he's here, too.

Effie has put primroses in every bouquet—a single primrose at the center—and I feel _her _presence, too. They're all here, I realize. In the mockingjays and the primroses, and more importantly, in my heart.

As we're walking, I look at the people around me. For me, who lost a lot of people, there are still many in attendance. I know I shouldn't be thinking about things this morbid at my wedding, I can't help it, though. Gale waves at me, and I wave back. Johanna's beaming from her spot, then winks at me. She mouths something to me, I think it's "have fun with baker boy," I sigh and smile at her. Johanna Mason. District Seven.

Haymitch finally hands me over to Peeta, who's smiling so much I'm afraid his cheeks would start hurting. This makes me smile too. Peeta looks… dashing in his suit. Not overly dressed, but it's Peeta we're talking about. He looks good in everything. At least to me, he does.

Everything is blissful until the exchange of our wedding vows. I think I'm shaking, Peeta seems to be nervous, too.

He takes a deep breath, "Katniss," he starts. "From the moment I saw you when we were five, on that first day of school, I knew I loved you. Since the first time I heard your voice, I knew that I would live the rest of my life loving you, without assurance you'll love me back. The odds were not in our favor, I was Town and you were Seam. I was friendly and you were… well, not so friendly." The audience laughs at that. He continues, "When I was a kid, I dreamt about… _you. _About making you fall for me as hard as I have fallen for you. I was too much of a coward, though. Great thing I was reaped." The audience laughs again. Here's Peeta, in his wedding—our wedding—making people laugh. I don't know if I could love him even more.

"I have loved you then, with you in your plaid dress and two braids and heavenly voice. I have loved you still, that day in the rain. And I love you, now, in this moment, and I will love you as long as I'm alive, as long as you're with me. And even then, even when I'm gone. I will love you, Katniss Everdeen, with everything I have left, and I hope it's enough."

I don't realize I'm crying until I had to sniff. "I'm sorry about that," I say. I'm rewarded with laughter. Deep breaths. "Peeta, I have not loved you as long as you did me. If it isn't obvious, I was at a disadvantage for I did not see you that day." Everybody laughs, including Peeta. "But when we were twelve, when you threw those loaves at me in the rain, I knew that in a way, I loved you. If you hadn't done that, I wouldn't be here, nor my mom. I'm still in your debt, Peeta. Especially after you saved me, for so many times you did. I hope my love is enough. I promise that I will love you, even when I die. If there is life after that, or if I'm given another chance to do all of this again—lose my dad, almost starve to death, participate in the Games, lead a rebellion… lose _you, _lose my sister," my voice hitches. _I'm going to cry. I'm going to cry. _"I would do all of that again if it means being with you."

Tears are flowing down my face at this point, but Peeta's crying too. At least I'm not alone.

_I won't ever be alone._

_Never again._

Peeta slips the ring on my finger, not finding his voice. I put his on afterwards, the gold band cold to my touch.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

Peeta lifts the veil covering my face up, then gently wipes what's left of my tears from my face. He cups my cheek, then leans in for our first kiss as a married couple. I close my eyes and wait for the moment when my lips meet his. I feel him stop, his lips inches from mine. With his forehead pressed against mine, he asks, "You love me, real or not real?"

_Real _is what I should answer. But this moment is special, this question, out in the open, it's special, and it's like my brain has made the decision for me because I tell him, "Always."

Then it's just me and Peeta and our lips and cheers and laughter and joy. So much joy.

When we've gone down from heaven—I'm not kidding, that's how it really felt—Peeta leads me into the house for the second part of the day, the toasting. Only select people are allowed inside the house, the rest of the guests are left outside to start eating and having fun. They shut the door behind us as we settle in front of the heart where a plate of bread and a rag has already been set. Our toasting is different the traditional toasting. Different because it does not involve a lot of talking and vow exchanging. We've already done that.

Peeta breaks a slice of bread in two, and together, we toast them in the fire. Everything feels solemn, even the soft clinking of glasses and chattering of guests outside. I pull my chunk of bread away from the fire and hold it to Peeta' lips, "I love you," I tell him.

He takes a bite, then does the same to me, "I love you, too."

I bite into the bread he has offered me, accepting _it—_a symbol of his love, and by accepting his love I accept him as my husband, _again. _I'm not complaining, though.

He's smiling that shy Peeta smile of his, then looks down as if embarrassed. He looks up at me again, then says, "You're finally mine, I can't believe it."

"I've only been yours, Peeta. No one else's."

"Well, that's nice," he jokes, leaning in for a kiss. I close my eyes and meet him halfway, like I always did. Meet him halfway, in loving, in forgiving, in hating, in being angry, I always met him halfway. Maybe that's love, you don't always have to be perfect for each other at first. You have to be different, then you have to work, to fight for what you feel so you know you deserve each other.

Maybe that's it. That's how it's going to be for the two of us, we might not always see things eye to eye, but we'll always stay together.

_Always._


	16. Chapter Sixteen

The married life, so far, seems to not have any disadvantages. We can now both wear very little in at home whenever we don't feel like it. _Even_ _less_ since we already saw each other naked.

_Yes. _

We did _it. _

We actually almost _didn't_ that night of the wedding, considering we were both tired and just felt like sleeping but once we got started, there was no stopping us. The celebration stopped at around midnight, the guests finally leaving for their houses. Our friends and my mom insisted they stay in the neighboring ones. Up until now I'm glad they did.

We went upstairs clinging to each other's waists, still not in our normal clothes. When we got to our room, Peeta plunked down the bed, face down. I tried getting him up so he can change his clothes but he didn't budge, teasing me to unclothe him instead. I decided to really unclothe him. We're married anyway. He was calm and all while I was taking off his shoes and his coat but he started to panic when I was unbuttoning his shirt.

"Whoa, there," he laughed nervously.

"What? You told me to undress you, so I am."

I get to the last button of the dress shirt and slip it off of him. I won't deny it, Peeta looks good without a shirt. Even with all his scars he's beautiful. I sigh dramatically to tease him, and he raises his eyebrows. Maybe it's all the wine we drank or maybe it's the high from being married to this man that made me very playful that night. I sat on his stomach, almost straddling him, still in my wedding gown, and then leaned down and kissed every inch of his skin that is exposed. The heat pooling below my stomach grew and spread up my body to the tips of my fingers. When I got to his neck, he grunted and I thought it was… I don't know, _sexy _maybe? I'm not sure but I can remember liking it.

"Katniss," he inhaled. "God."

Peeta started to push me away then, so I kissed him on the mouth instead. I remember feeling that something like the hunger I felt in the cave and on the beach again. But this is much stronger.

Peeta's hands roamed my back, cupped my face and lightly pulled at the hair at the base of my neck. They drifted down again, this time to undo the ties that secured the gown to my body. He pulled at it a bit too harshly I sat up.

I remember seeing so much fear in his eyes, his mouth was agape in shock and uncertainty. For a moment I was confused, then it dawned on me.

"Katniss?" he asked, his voice hitching.

I leaned down again and kissed the spot behind his ears. "Just be careful with the gown. It was Cinna's design."

"Oh," he breathed. "Yes, yes. Of course. I—I never meant to—"

He never got to finish that thought because my lips were on his, stopping his words. I think he whimpered but it was hard to tell, considering we were both breathing heavily then. In a moment the bodice of the gown was at my waist, then Peeta grunted.

"It's stuck."

I couldn't help but laugh softly. I pulled away and got off of him. He followed me, standing up too. I let the gown fall to my ankles. I felt quite exposed, but I wasn't uncomfortable. Peeta was staring at me, his eyes drifting down my body, starting from my head up to my toes. His blue eyes that I've grown to love were almost black from his dilated pupils. A cool breeze blew from the window and sent shivers up my spine. I instinctively brought my hands to my bare chest to shield me from the cold spring breeze. He stepped closer, his hands settled on my elbows. With a very husky voice he said, "Feeling cold?"

I looked up then, he was looking at me with such intensity in his eyes. If this were the Peeta the whole Panem saw before our Games, it wouldn't have been me who got all the attention. It would have been him who got the sponsors, him whose name was chanted, maybe even him who would have been the face of the rebellion. The very role I served to bring peace to Panem. I am reminded of all the dangers I had faced, all those near-death encounters that I wouldn't have survived if it weren't for him.

"Katniss…"he whispered roughly, the sound further igniting the fire in me. I tried to hold his gaze, to memorize every detail I can see in his irises, every bit of dark and light speck of blue visible to me.

But I couldn't. Not for any longer.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and planted my lips firmly against his, sanity slowly slipping away from my grasp. Our kiss turned frantic, both of our hands trying to pull each other closer. My hands fumbled to get his belt off, a second later his hands joined mine and helped unclasp it. After getting rid of his belt, my hands worked the fly of his pants. He pulled it down and kicked his legs out of it. Actually, just _leg, _but you get what I mean.

Our underwear soon join the mess of our clothes on the floor.

I'm not sure if I pulled him towards our bed or he pushed me to it, but the moment the back of my knees hit the bed, I ended up underneath him, our bodies touching… _everywhere_ and then I'm scared.

I know what _it_ is. I know how it feels afterwards. During our stay in Thirteen, and when we've already gotten back, when I felt empty and all I could think of is how Peeta's arms felt around me, how he looked at me, the feeling of his lips on mine, the way he said my name, his caresses and touches, when I couldn't feel like I'm living, when I couldn't feel _anything at all_, when I was desperate to feel _something, _I resorted to that. I am a nineteen year old teenager. I have hormones, too. It may not have been too obvious, I didn't even think I had them but this boy… this boy brought out so many things in me and put them out in the open. I almost hated him for it.

"I—I've never…" I trail off. Peeta's still peppering me with kisses and I felt him smile.

"Me neither."

"_What?" _I ask, my voice shaking from all of what's happening.

"What do you mean _what_?"

"You've never…?"

He shook his head, "You think I still have time for that? I was busy loving you from afar, remember?"

A nervous chuckle escaped me, "B-but you were so… famous and strong and muscular and handsome and smart and… I don't know."

"It was always you, Katniss. Just you. And besides, even if someone came up to me and offered, I would have declined. I'm not really that kind of person."

_Who am I kidding? _This is Peeta Mellark we're talking about here. Of course he's not that kind of person. He even waited for us to get married before we…

I never understood why the other Victors deemed me pure until now, now that I can't even _think_ the word. It's just so… weird.

I found myself playing with the hairs at his nape, not being able to comprehend anything, my mind too racked up to even think of doing anything else. "Who would have thought, right? Katniss and Peeta, the star-crossed lovers of District Twelve… wow. I mean, I've thought about _this _a lot. I _dreamt _about this since I was a kid. Not exactly _this _as in now but—"

"Peeta," I interrupt him.

"Yeah?"

"You talk too much," then I pulled him down and shut him up with my lips. I felt my body humming with some sort of electricity, and the urge to get him closer got stronger and stronger for every second that passed. He tilted his head more to the side to deepen our kiss further, one of his hands holding my head in place. Without meaning to, I jerked my hips upward, making the both of us gasp in surprise.

I wanted him closer.

But I couldn't just tell that to him. I didn't have it in me. So again, like I always used to, I communicated through my actions. I wrapped my legs around his hip, the friction caused by that action made my back arch.

He pulled away, his breath coming in deep. If we weren't in this situation, I would have been worried by the way he was heaving, desperately trying to catch his breath.

"A-are you sure about this? Do… do you want this?"

"Yes, Peeta," I tell him. "I want this."

"I… I don't have anything to—"

"It's okay. Thirteen gave me a shot. Lasts for three years."

He looked surprised, and for a few moments we just stared at each other and took deep breaths. I felt the passion slowly dissipate, the situation turning a bit awkward. He gulped, then said, "So, how do we do this?"

"Just kiss me."

And he did. I can't remember thinking about anything else at all, except me, Peeta, our bodies, and how did I manage to live my life without ever doing this before.

Everything that happened after this we'd like to keep a secret.

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**A/N: Aaaaand that's it! I know it's not that hot, I really just can't write _hot. _I wanted it to be but I couldn't. Sorry for that. Oh, and at last _Always _is finished! It's been a mind-wracking three months. Special thanks to those who followed and supported this story. I'll start writing the sequel soon (_yes_, there will be!), and probably upload it some time in the next two months. **

**Again, huge thanks to all of you! I love all of you! May all of your otps stay strong.**


	17. Sequel

Hi! I just wanted to tell you guys I've posted the first two chapters of the sequel I promised. It's entitled Real.

Give it a try?

I'm kind of proud of the story I was able to build. I had a lot of fun writing it, even going as far as staying up late at night just because. Anyways, thanks again for reading this story! I love all of you.


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